


baby, just say yes

by LFTPD



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Thirsty Bottom Patrick Brewer, Top David Rose, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28830510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFTPD/pseuds/LFTPD
Summary: David had missed one phone call and now his life is falling apart. Well, okay, he’d missed like three months of phone calls, but who could blame him when things at the gallery had been so hectic? He’d made one tiny mistake, and now he has no choice but to go crawling to the last person who would ever want to help him. How the fuck is he supposed to convince Patrick to marry him when his own boyfriend won’t?Or, a very loose adaptation of The Proposal
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 275
Kudos: 419





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs in this chapter for David’s canon-typical unhealthy past relationships and a smidgen of gaslighting

Patrick’s phone is ringing and he really doesn’t want to answer it. He has the perfect excuse to ignore it: he’s not supposed to take personal calls at work. Unfortunately, Rachel knows that David won’t be at the gallery until ten. She won’t buy that excuse.

“Rach, you really shouldn’t call me during work hours,” he starts. He can practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“I’m not calling during my work hours. I clocked out ten minutes ago,” she shoots back.

“Maybe you should go home to your fiancée, then.” Patrick’s already grinning. He’s missed talking to her. They still text almost every day, but with all of the wedding planning and her ever-changing work schedule, it’s been hard to find time to talk lately. 

“Nice try, Brewer, but you’re not getting out of this conversation that easily. We’ve got less than two weeks until the wedding, and you still haven’t bought your flight home.”

Patrick sighs. She’s not wrong. He’s been avoiding this conversation because he knows she isn’t going to like what he has to say. 

“You know it’s not because I don’t want to be there,” he tells her. “I really do want to go, but—”

“But your asshole boss won’t give you time off? I know he’s hot, Patrick, but I still don’t understand why you haven’t quit.”

She does understand, though. She knows everything Patrick feels about the gallery, about David. The good and the bad. She knows he’s not quitting any time soon. 

“We’ve got that exhibition opening next month. The timing is tight as it is. There’s no way he’d give me the time off.” 

“Wait,” Rachel says, and Patrick can hear her getting into her car. “Are you telling me that you haven’t even asked him yet? What the fuck, Patrick.” There’s a little static as she switches to hands-free, but then she’s back. “If you really can’t make it, I’m sure I’ll forgive you eventually, but you have to at least try.”

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll try. And if he says yes, I’ll book a plane ticket tonight. I promise.”

“If you can get here by Thursday, you can come to our bachelorette party. We’re going to that spa in Elmdale. They say they require reservations, but I know if you show up they’ll find you a room.”

“Oh, of course,” Patrick says. There’s a grin in his voice that he’s sure she can hear. “Because that’s really what every guy wants, you know. My own room in a romantic spa, all alone the day before my ex gets married.”

“You’re welcome to crash on the floor in our room if you’re worried about being lonely. But you can’t get upset about anything you may see or hear,” she’s grinning back, and it soothes some of Patrick’s anxiety. He knows she’s disappointed about him not making it up for her wedding, but it’s nice to know that it’s not going to ruin things between them. They’ve gotten through far worse together, after all. 

“On second thought, my own room sounds great.” Before she can say anything else, Patrick hears the back door to the gallery swing open. “I’ve got to go, sorry,” he says in almost a whisper. “David just got here.”

“Good luck. Maybe if you flirt a little he’ll give you the time off.” 

“I’m hanging up now,” Patrick answers with a roll of his eyes.

“You’d better be because that sounds like a personal call,” David calls out as he pulls open the door to Patrick’s small office. Patrick was hoping he’d be in a good mood when he came in; that might make him more likely to at least consider giving Patrick the weekend off. Unfortunately, that does not seem to be the case. He’s got his sunglasses on. He only wears those inside when he’s hungover. 

“No personal calls at work,” Patrick agrees with an apologetic nod. “I’m sorry.”

David waves his hand as if flicking the conversation away. “Coffee?” he demands. He’s already walking towards the breakroom. 

“Should still be hot,” Patrick calls out. He gives it a few moments before he gets up. Maybe David will feel a little better once he gets some caffeine in him. 

“I’ve got your messages,” Patrick says as he walks into David’s office a few moments later. Technically, taking David’s messages is not part of his job description. He came in to handle all of the gallery’s finances, but somehow his job has shifted into part financial director, part personal assistant. There had been no increase in pay to go with the increase in scope.

“Did we hear back from Grace? They were supposed to send me their proposal, like, two weeks ago,” David asks around a bite of his bagel. 

“Nothing from Grace, but I sent them another email yesterday and left a voicemail this morning. I’m going to try calling again this afternoon.”

David hums in response. He doesn’t look up from his laptop, but that’s nothing new.

“Morgan signed the contract we sent over without negotiating the price,” Patrick tells him, reading through the next few messages he’d taken. “Oh, and your immigration lawyer called again. He said it was urgent.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” David says with a wave of his hand. “If that’s all, you can go.”

Patrick takes a deep breath. He can do this.

“Actually, um. There was something I wanted to talk to you about.” His voice comes out only slightly steadier than he feels.

David actually looks up at that, his brows furrowing. “Are you quitting? You can’t quit. How the fuck am I supposed to get the show up on time if I have to do your job and mine? And fuck, I’d have to find a replacement, and that’s—”

“No,” Patrick interrupts quickly before David can catastrophize any further. “No, I’m definitely not quitting. I wanted to know if I could have next weekend off.”

David’s frown gets deeper. “Why? You know how busy we are.”

“I do, I do,” Patrick agrees. “But my best friend back home is getting married. If you’re worried about the deadline I can take my laptop with me and get the same amount done there.”

“Mm, no,” David says, turning back to his work. “What if I need you? No, you should stay. Once we open you can take some time off.”

“If you need me, you can call me,” Patrick says. He tries to keep his frustration out of his voice, but he’s not sure that he succeeds. “Taking time off next month won’t make up for missing the wedding.”

“I need you here though, so,” David says with a shrug. He’s clearly done with the conversation. 

Patrick walks back to his office, closing the door before he lets out a sigh. He’d known this would happen, but it’s still disappointing. As annoyed as he is, Patrick can see where David’s coming from. David’s anxiety gets higher and higher as they near deadlines, and anything that breaks his routine only makes it worse. Patrick really could get the same amount of work done at home, but, unsurprisingly, David isn’t going to risk it.

Text chain with  Rachel  
  
Patrick:  He said no. How big of a wedding present do I have to get to make you forgive me?  
  
Rachel:  new car? down payment for a house? trip to Cancun?  
  
Patrick:  Got it, I’ll get you a toaster.  
  
Rachel:  🖕  
  


Patrick has so much work to do that he doesn’t realize he hasn’t had lunch until after three. He gets up from his desk, wincing when his back cracks from his stretch. Maybe after the opening he can convince David to get him a standing desk. He’s seen the numbers. They can afford it.

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. Honestly, it’s almost impossible not to eavesdrop, given that the break room doesn’t have a door and David never seems to shut his. He’s microwaving his lunch—because unlike David, Patrick can’t afford to get takeout every day—when he hears someone in David’s office. He hadn’t heard anyone come in, and he knows David’s schedule. He doesn’t have any meetings this afternoon. Sebastien, he thinks with a frown. He starts listening a little harder.

“Is that not what I pay you for?” David says, nearing a yell. “What is even the point, if you can’t fucking do your job?”

“I understand you’re upset, Mr. Rose, but there’s only so much I can do when you miss my calls and ignore deadlines,” the man replies. Not Sebastien, then.

“I’m very busy!” Patrick can picture David pacing like he always does when he’s overwhelmed, hands probably flying through the air. “Can’t we, I don’t know, throw money at it and make it go away?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t bribe immigration. However, I do have a few ideas on how to handle this situation.”

“Thank fuck,” David says, and Patrick can hear him flopping into his chair. “Okay, sit down and let’s get this over with.”

The microwave beeps and Patrick loses his excuse to eavesdrop. He picks up his leftovers and walks back to his office, closing the door behind him. He’s not sure what’s going on with David, but he does know that he’s been ignoring calls from his lawyer for the past few months. He’s not surprised he missed a deadline, nor is he surprised that David’s first instinct is to try to throw money at the problem to make it go away. Must be nice, he thinks as he picks at his food. 

David is still in his office when Patrick leaves for the day. “I’m heading out,” he says as he walks by. “See you tomorrow.”

David hums in acknowledgement, glued to his work. Patrick’s hit with a very familiar feeling, annoyance at being dismissed mixed with the thick, simmering attraction he feels whenever he looks at David. David always looks gorgeous, but there’s something especially magnetic about the way he looks when he’s deep in thought. Sometimes Patrick thinks he would kill to be on the other end of that gaze, and sometimes Patrick wishes he could throw something at David’s head. Usually, he feels both at the same time. 

Annoyance wins out in the end as he exits the gallery and runs into an all too familiar face.

“Ah, Patrick. Every time I see you, I think that you have the most compelling presence,” Sebastien says. He’d been heading in as Patrick was heading out. As much as he hates having to interact with Sebastien at all, Patrick’s at least grateful that he left before Sebastien made it to David’s office and was spared having to listen to them together. “Such a shame it’s being wasted behind a desk crunching numbers.”

“Nice to see you too, but I’ve got to get going,” Patrick says with a curt nod, speed walking away. Luckily, Sebastien doesn’t try to follow after him.

Sebastien isn’t the worst of the people David’s dated since Patrick started working at the gallery. Compared to a few of them, he’s almost decent. Patrick can’t stand him all the same. He’s so slimy, so incredibly full of himself. Everything he says is a backhanded compliment, even when he’s talking to David.

Well. Especially when he’s talking to David. And for some reason, David puts up with it. David pretends that there’s no double meaning. He looks away when Sebastien hits on someone else right in front of him. He pretends he doesn’t care when Sebastien stands him up. Patrick has no idea what David sees in him. Maybe he’s good in bed, he thinks. Sex would never be enough to make Patrick stay with someone like Sebastien, but then again, Patrick’s only had sex with someone he was actually attracted to a handful of times. If he had more experience, maybe he’d feel differently. Probably not, though.

It’s a little chilly as he walks to the subway. Patrick shoves his hands in his pockets, keeping his head down. If he had to pick a least favourite thing about living in New York—and there are a lot of things he hates about living in New York—it would be the lack of eye contact. Back home, he couldn’t cross the street without running into someone he knew. He misses those random conversations, the pleasant small talk. Here he’s surrounded by strangers, and if he tried to make small talk, they’d probably think he was asking for money. 

Back home Patrick’s salary would’ve been enough to buy a house. In New York, it means he rents a tiny room in a tiny apartment and commutes over an hour both ways. He could dip into his savings and afford a slightly nicer place, but it wouldn’t be sustainable. Besides, there’s still a part of him that thinks he’ll get his MBA at some point, and he’ll definitely need savings for that. So he makes do, and eventually it becomes such a routine that the commute stops bothering him. It’s nice to settle in with a podcast and slowly shed off the stress of work as he heads home. Patrick appreciates having that transition time. Without it, he might never stop working. 

When he gets home, he’s relieved to see that no one’s around. Patrick is a pretty extroverted guy, but his roommates are all in their early twenties and sometimes they can be a little much. After a long day, Patrick wants to lie back with a beer and whatever game is on, and that’s not really his roommates’ idea of a good time. He’s halfway through making his dinner when his phone rings. It’s probably Rachel, so Patrick puts it up to his ear without looking at it.

“I promise you, I really did try,” he says, reaching for a colander. 

“Patrick?” Fuck. It’s not Rachel. If he had seen who it was, he probably wouldn’t have answered, he thinks guiltily.

“Oh, Mom!” he says, putting some fake cheer into his voice. “I’m sorry, I thought you were Rachel. She’s on my case about not making it up for the wedding.”

“That’s why I’m calling, sweetheart,” his mother says. He can hear the concern in her voice. For the last two years, every time they’ve talked he’s heard concern in her voice. “I know this must be hard for you. We’re disappointed that we won’t get to see you, of course, but we understand.”

“Hard for me?” Patrick asks, half distracted by the steam hitting his face as he takes a lid off of a pot. “It’s a little annoying that my boss won’t give me time off, but it’ll be fine. Rachel understands.”

“I meant that it must be painful for you to see Rachel get married given... your history.”

He doesn’t mean to, but Patrick barks out a laugh. Seeing Rachel happily married is the furthest thing from painful. If anything, it eases some of the guilt he’s been carrying for years. He loves Rachel, and he couldn’t be happier that she’s found someone who loves her in every way that Patrick couldn’t.

“Mom, I promise you, that’s not it. I’m happy for Rachel. There are no hard feelings between us. If I could be there, I would be.”

“I’m sorry for assuming,” his mom says, and Patrick can hear from her voice that she means it. It brings an ache to his chest. He misses his parents so much. It hasn’t been fair to them to stay away for so long. He wants to see them, and yet he always finds an excuse not to. He knows he’ll have to tell them eventually, but every time he tries to get the words out, he ends up backing down. Whenever he sees them in person, he tells himself, and then holidays pass without him coming home. “It’s only that you’ve never told us what happened between you and Rachel. Not even who ended it or why you had to move so far away.”

“It was mutual.” Patrick’s told her this before, but it’s not entirely true. “We work so much better as friends.” That’s true, at least.

“Well, I’m glad. I didn’t like the idea of you staying away from home because you were avoiding someone.” Patrick can hear the unspoken question, and he’s hit with another wave of guilt. _Are you avoiding us?_

“David said I could take some time off next month,” Patrick tells her. He’s not sure if he’s ready for that, but the hurt in her voice is too much for him to take. “Maybe I could come up, or we could meet in Albany and stay with Grandma.”

“Oh! We’d love that,” his mother exclaims. Her voice gets louder as she calls out to his dad. “Clint, Patrick says he might be able to see us next month. He could come here or we could meet halfway and stay with your family.”

Albany is definitely not halfway, but Patrick doesn’t tell her that. Maybe it would be easier to tell them there, he thinks. If they react badly, he can always stay with one of his cousins. Trey has gay friends. He probably wouldn’t care.

Soon the phone is on speaker, and both of his parents are excitedly running through plans. There’s still the underlying feeling of dread, but as he carries his dinner to his room he can’t help but feel warm from their obvious affection. Even after avoiding them for two years, it’s still obvious that they love him. Shouldn’t that be enough to calm his fears about telling them the truth?

They talk for a few hours, which is more than he’s spoken to them in the last few months. He gets caught up on all the local gossip, which is fun, and he tells them all about the opening next month. They don’t understand his job, but they love to hear about it all the same. When Patrick finally hangs up and gets ready for bed, he’s feeling a whole lot better about the whole thing.

* * *

Patrick has meetings and conference calls all morning, so he doesn’t see David when he comes in for the day. Even in his office, though, with the door closed and his phone to his ear, Patrick can hear David loudly stomping around. Banging noises come from the break room as David makes his breakfast more aggressively than normal. It doesn’t bode well for how the rest of the day will go, but by now Patrick is more than familiar with dealing with David’s moods. 

He sneaks out of his office at lunch, getting his food and hurrying back without running into David. David needs space on bad days, and Patrick doesn’t want to be on the other end of his anger any more than he already is. 

The worst part is that David hadn’t always hated Patrick. Maybe hate was too strong of a word, but there certainly weren’t any fond feelings between them. David’s current feelings bounced from disinterest to annoyance, but it hadn’t always been that way. There had been a moment back at the beginning when Patrick had even thought they might become friends. His interview had gone well, and David seemed to appreciate the work he did. At some point, that changed, and Patrick still can’t figure out why. There’s not a specific moment he can point to. He sometimes wonders if it was because David got to know him better and realized Patrick wasn’t worth his time. Or maybe the warm beginning had all been an act and David had dropped it as soon as he was sure Patrick wouldn’t quit. Patrick couldn’t ignore the possibility that it was all his fault; had he done something to offend David? If only David would tell him, and then he could try to fix it. He doesn’t mind that they’re not friends, but it would be nice to have a workplace that was a little less openly hostile, at least. 

Not that Patrick has any right to complain. He could’ve quit at any point in the last few years. Having the gallery on his resume would probably be enough to find something similar. If he ever went back home, he knows his old job would want him back. He’d left on good terms, and he still kept in touch with some of his coworkers. There are a million reasons to quit, but Patrick knows he won’t do it. For as stressful as his day to day is, it’s still more fulfilling than any other job he’s ever had. He’s never been the creative type–guitar and musical theatre notwithstanding. He could never create something like David has. David’s work brings beauty into the world, and Patrick likes knowing that he gets to be a part of it. 

He’s knee-deep into a spreadsheet when his flow is loudly interrupted. His door is closed, but David doesn’t seem to be concerned with the volume of his voice. Thank god the gallery isn’t open, or some of their patrons might get an earful too. 

“You’re not listening to me,” David barks out from behind the wall. “Do you really think if I were proposing I’d do it in my fucking office?”

Patrick’s eyebrows shoot up at that. Whoever David’s talking to is too quiet for Patrick to hear, but from context, he’d guess it was Sebastien. He’s seen this happen before. It usually follows the same pattern. Sebastien does something shitty and whenever David finally tries to address him about it, he gets immediately shut down for being too emotional. Sebastien will stand there with his stupid little smirk, telling David that they clearly can’t have a conversation if he’s going to be so dramatic. Sebastien wins by default because he’s so emotionally disengaged. Nothing seems to bother him. 

“It’s for like two months! You really can’t give me two months of your life?”

Another pause. 

“How the fuck am I being clingy? I’m literally trying not to get deported, Sebastien. This has nothing to do with you!”

Patrick spins in his chair as if turning towards the wall will help him hear more. He knows it’s wrong, but he finds himself quietly cracking his door open, standing close so he can listen in. If David gets deported Patrick will be out of a job, which means technically their conversation is his business, he decides. It’s a thin excuse, but it’s the one he has. 

With his ear out the door, he can finally hear what Sebastien is saying. 

“—when we’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks—“

“Four months,” David interrupts in a tight voice. “We’ve been dating for four months.”

“All the same, I don’t think your level of attachment to me is healthy. I’m a free spirit, David, and I won’t be tied down by the oppressive ropes of monogamy, let alone matrimony.”

Patrick hears a sharp intake of breath.

“Since when do you not believe in monogamy?” David asks. His voice is barely above a whisper. 

“We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? We both agreed we’d be better in an open relationship. Really, David, this isn’t anything to get worked up about.”

“I’d remember if we’d talked about an open relationship,” David snaps. “What the fuck, Sebastien? How long have you been fucking other people?”

“How long have we been dating?”

Jesus Christ. Patrick really shouldn’t be listening to this. He softly closes his door, wishing he could forget everything he’s just heard. He knows he should be focusing on the losing his job aspect of the conversation, but he can’t think about anything but the hurt in David’s voice. For all that he hated Sebastien, he’d always assumed that David was at least aware of Sebastien sleeping around. Case in point, the first time they’d met he had hit on Patrick right in front of David. Patrick had always assumed that David was willfully ignorant of Sebastien’s flaws, but maybe he hadn’t seen them. 

Patrick’s never been cheated on, but can imagine how David must be feeling. He has to do something before he bursts into David’s office to confront Sebastien himself. He’s not going to get any work done as long as he can still hear them arguing through the wall, so instead of buckling back down to work Patrick slips on his coat and leaves the gallery. He’s as quiet as possible, but he doubts David would notice him leaving even if he weren’t. 

There’s a bakery a few blocks away that David likes. He orders breakfast from them sometimes, and he’s sent Patrick out to pick something up for him dozens of times. David still writes his order down for him every time, even though Patrick memorized his order after the second time David asked.

“Boss sent you out again, hm?” asks the woman at the counter when he finally makes it to the front of the line. Patrick doesn’t know her name and she probably doesn’t know his. All the same, they’ve seen enough of each other to have a sort of rapport. She’s seen him at his most stressed, seen him darting across the street to try to bring David’s food back as quickly as possible. She always seems amused.

“Not this time, actually,” Patrick tells her. He gives her David’s order, leaning against the counter as she starts on the coffee. “He’s having a bit of a rough day. Figured I’d do something to cheer him up.”

“Someone wants a promotion,” she teases, her back to him as she works. 

“Is it that much of a shock that I’m trying to be nice?” 

“Given everything I’ve heard about your boss? Definitely.”

“I overheard him finding out the person he’s dating is cheating on him,” Patrick tells her in a low voice. Patrick’s never used David’s name, so it doesn’t feel like overstepping to tell her. “Felt like he could use a pick me up.”

“Ooh, I love the drama,” she says, turning around with a grin. “How did he find out? Were there tears?”

“I left as soon as it happened, so I don’t know,” Patrick shrugs. He takes the coffee from her, waiting for her to bag up David’s pastries. After leaving a generous tip, Patrick heads back to the office. Hopefully, Sebastien will be gone by the time he gets back. Otherwise, he either has to interrupt them or let David’s coffee get cold, and neither one sounds like an appealing option. 

It’s quiet when he comes inside. Patrick stays at the end of the hall, trying to get a glance at whether or not David’s office is empty. When there’s no sign of Sebastien he walks up to the doorway.

“David?” 

“I’m busy. Is it an emergency?” 

“Not an emergency, no. But I brought you something.” Patrick sets down the coffee and pastry bag on David’s desk and turns to leave. He’s made it a few steps into the hallway when David responds.

“What’s this?”

Patrick turns around, and for once David is actually looking up from his desk. “It’s your usual.”

“I didn’t ask you to get me anything.” David doesn’t sound irritated. He doesn’t sound particularly grateful either, but confusion is colouring his voice. Patrick can see that his eyes are red-rimmed but other than that there aren’t any signs of what happened. David looks as polished as ever.

“I know,” Patrick shrugs. “It seemed like you could use one, though. If there’s not anything else, I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Wait.” David’s gaze drops to his desk. He pulls out a chocolate croissant, picking small flakes off with his fingers. “Um. Is this because—did you hear me yelling earlier?”

“A little,” Patrick admits. “The walls are thin.”

“That’s not humiliating at all.” David tips his head back against his chair, groaning softly. 

“Hey, no.” Patrick takes another step into David’s office. He has a sudden urge to hug David. That definitely wouldn’t be well received, so he shoves his hands into his pockets. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Sebastien’s a tool.”

David snorts out a laugh. “How long have you thought that?” he asks.

“Can I say since the day I met him or is that too mean?”

“As if you could ever be mean,” David rolls his eyes. “I always knew he was kind of an asshole, but I’d thought…” He lets his voice trail off, picking at his croissant again. Patrick’s never seen him pick at his food before; on a normal day, David would already be onto his second pastry by now. It’s a little concerning.

“If you want to talk about it,” Patrick starts to offer, but David’s already shaking his head.

“Nope, no, we’re done here,” he says definitively. He sits up straighter in his chair, rolling his shoulders back. “You can get back to work.”

“Sure thing,” Patrick says. He’s unsurprised that David didn’t think to thank him.

* * *

The next day David doesn’t make it in until close to three, but Patrick is still impressed. When David and Elena had broken up he’d spent almost a full week away from the gallery, and David and Elena hadn’t been together half as long as he was with Sebastien. If Patrick’s being completely honest with himself, there’s a part of him that’s annoyed that David’s taking it so well. Patrick might have been able to make it to the wedding without David noticing if he had needed a week to get over Sebastien. There’s no chance of that now.

Half an hour after he gets in, David’s knocking on Patrick’s door. “Do you have a minute?” he asks. David’s usual routine is to burst into Patrick’s office whenever he needs something. Patrick can’t remember knocking ever happening. It’s a new side of David, and it makes Patrick incredibly nervous. Is he about to lose his job?

“Sure thing. What’s up?” Patrick asks. He sets down his pen, turning in his chair to face David. 

David doesn’t say anything for a moment. Patrick can see him tugging at the sleeves of his probably incredibly expensive sweater. That’s not a good sign.

“So, the thing is, I need a favour.”


	2. Chapter 2

David had missed one phone call and now his life is falling apart. Well, okay, he’d missed like three months of phone calls, but who could blame him when things at the gallery had been so hectic? He’d made one tiny mistake, and now he has no choice but to go crawling to the last person who would ever want to help him. How the fuck is he supposed to convince Patrick to marry him when his own boyfriend won’t? 

Ex-boyfriend, he reminds himself with a sigh. He feels raw after Sebastien, cut open and flayed at the seams. David doesn’t handle stress well. He was already on edge before the breakup. They’re nearing the opening and there’s still so much to do. On top of that, he hasn’t heard from Alexis in almost two weeks, and he always panics when that happens. She’s still updating her Insta, so he knows she’s not dead, but not dead is a very low bar. Add it all together, and he hasn’t been able to fall asleep without valium or a lot of alcohol in months. He wakes up every morning feeling like he’s been hit by a train.

His immigration lawyer showing up was the last thing he needed. In all honesty, David had completely forgotten that he was still waiting for his visa to get reapproved. That’s what the lawyer was for, after all. David pays him so he doesn’t have to handle any of the boring parts. But then his lawyer came storming in using terms like _out of status_ and _unlawful presence_. David didn’t understand a lot of what his lawyer told him, but he got the gist of it. He’s in the clear for now, but at any moment USCIS could make an official determination to bar him from the country for three years. It’s fucked. His whole life is in New York; he hasn’t even been to Canada in years. 

And what was his lawyer’s brilliant solution to this clusterfuck? He told him the fastest way to resolve this—and the only way to resolve it without having to leave the country for at least a few months while they overview his application—was to get married. David’s not the type of person that gets married. When he was younger and less jaded, he’d dreamed about his wedding. That dream had died long before Sebastien, and at this point, Sebastien was the closest thing to a long-term relationship that David had ever had. 

David isn’t naive. He’d known from the start that Sebastien wasn’t as invested as he was. That wasn’t new. David was always getting attached too quickly. He’d been told that during several different breakups. Sebastien could be cruel, and he didn’t seem to care much about David’s life. 

“It’s a shame you’re not a real artist,” he’d told David once. “But I suppose your little gallery soothes the ache of not having a true creative drive.” It had pissed David off—Sebastien wasn’t the one with a BFA, for one thing. But the conversation moved on, and David hadn’t said anything about it. David avoided conflict in relationships. The second he stepped out of line, he’d find himself alone. Maybe Sebastien wasn’t the best person he’d ever dated, but dating him had meant that David wouldn’t be alone. That had to be enough.

It’s not the first time David’s been in an open relationship, but it’s the first time he’s been in an open relationship that he didn’t know about. He’s never enough for the people he dates. Once the relationship opens up, it’s only a little while longer before it ends. Can he blame his partners for jumping ship once they see that there’s something better out there? Maybe David wouldn’t do the same, but he can certainly understand the appeal. 

As soon as his lawyer mentioned marriage David knew there was no use in asking Sebastien. Once David had tried to make plans that were about a week away, and Sebastien had felt so constrained that he’d avoided David for days. If assuming they’d be together in a week was overstepping, there was no chance that marriage wasn’t overstepping. But David didn’t have any other options, so he pushed through anyway. 

He’d meant to ask the night before. Sebastien was at his most agreeable right after sex, and David thought he might have a better chance of convincing him if he asked then. That night when David came back from the bathroom after getting a washcloth to clean up, Sebastien was already asleep and he’d missed his opportunity.

Food was his next tool. He invited Sebastien to eat lunch at his office, promising takeout from his favourite Ethiopian restaurant. He’d tried to be lowkey, tried to emphasize that this wasn’t about actually getting married but about saving his ass from deportation. Predictably, it hadn’t gone well. 

Now David’s single, which makes him even closer to deportation than he was yesterday. He’d spent the entire evening going through the contacts on his phone and his followers on Insta. There had to be someone who would say yes. But with every name he scrolled past, the only things that came to his mind were bad memories. There was probably a dollar amount he could throw out to get someone to say yes, but could he trust them to actually go through with it? Could he trust them to keep it quiet long enough for David’s visa to no longer be in jeopardy? He scrolled past hundreds of names without finding a single person that he could trust enough to ask.

It comes to him the next morning. He’s already decided that he’s going to come into work late today—well, later than 10 am, which is when he normally makes it in. He doesn’t have the time to binge romcoms and Ben & Jerry’s, but he can give himself one morning to sulk before he forces himself to get over Sebastien. He’s flipping through restaurants on his phone when his mind goes back to the day before. Patrick. He’d brought David coffee because… why? Was it pity? David’s sure that whatever Patrick had heard through the walls was enough to demonstrate how pathetic David is. As much as he wants to tell himself that Patrick had done it out of some sort of moral obligation, David doesn’t quite believe it. 

Patrick was being nice. That was the explanation that kept coming back. Despite all the shit David gives him, somehow Patrick is always nice. It’s one of the things that annoys David the most. He feels judged, inadequate and uncivilized next to Patrick’s constant politeness. David pokes and pokes, but he can never manage to make Patrick’s mask of professionalism slip. It’s infuriating.

If Patrick weren’t so good at his job, if his ass didn’t look so nice in those gross Target jeans, then maybe David would’ve fired him ages ago. 

If David had fired him ages ago, he’d have no choice but to get deported. He scours his brain for anyone else, no matter how vaguely they’re connected, that might be able to help him. It doesn’t help. Patrick is his only option. 

Patrick has a vested interest in David staying in The States. He won’t want to lose his job. Beyond that, David knows he’d be able to maintain the ruse. He wouldn’t slip up, wouldn’t try to extort David out of more and more money as their fake marriage went on. It’s hard to wrap his head around, but David realizes that Patrick might be the only person in the city that David trusts. Fuck, that’s pathetic.

Beyond the obvious problem of convincing Patrick to go through with this, David has a few more things to figure out before he asks. He spends half an hour scrolling through Patrick’s social media, making sure that he doesn’t have a wife. A girlfriend would be an obstacle, but at least it wouldn’t require a divorce in order to maintain the ruse. He goes through the files on his laptop and finds the paperwork that Patrick had done as a new hire. David had been pretty sure that Patrick was a citizen—he doesn’t remember having to figure out any visa stuff with him at least—but looking at the scan of his United States passport proves it. 

With that squared away, the only thing remaining is the motivation. The obvious answer is money because Patrick’s salary is… Actually, David has no idea what Patrick’s salary is. It can’t be that high, given how much their profits have sunk after everything that happened. David isn’t sure how much money to offer; he’s always surprised by how impressed regular people can be about what David thinks of as tiny amounts. If Patrick doesn’t accept the money, David doesn’t have any other ideas. He barely knows Patrick, let alone what he wants. 

It takes him a few more hours to psych himself up, but he finally makes his way to the gallery. He drinks a coffee for courage, and then he walks into Patrick’s office. 

“Why don’t you sit down,” Patrick says, gesturing to a chair. David perches on the edge of the chair, taking a moment to look around Patrick’s office as he organizes his thoughts. He always forgets how small it is. It’s a little dreary, honestly. Patrick has a few photos on his desk, but other than that he doesn’t seem to care much about decorating his space. Even a plant would do so much to brighten up the room. 

“You needed a favour?” Patrick prompts when David’s been silent for too long. 

“Yes.” David clasps his hands tightly on his lap, trying to reign himself in. He can’t be too much right now, not when he needs something. “Ah, you know those calls my immigration lawyer’s been leaving?”

“I am aware, yes.” There’s a teasing glint in Patrick’s eyes that David’s never seen before. 

“Right. Well.” David takes a deep breath, and then the words start spilling out. He explains the situation with immigration, explains how close he is to being barred from the country. “And the only way out, apparently, is marrying a US citizen and getting a divorce once everything’s gone through. And you’re a US citizen.”

Patrick blinks a few times, and then he bursts into laughter. Even though David’s trying to be on his best behaviour, he can’t manage to suppress the glare he shoots at Patrick.

“This isn’t a laughing matter!” David exclaims. “You do realize that if I get deported, I’ll have to sell the gallery. You’ll be out of a job.”

“Right, noted,” Patrick says. He’s still grinning. “I could get a new job though, couldn’t I?”

Fuck. David knew that this wasn’t going to be easy.

“And I’ll pay you,” he says. He drops a random number, and by the way Patrick’s eyes widen David can tell he could’ve offered half as much. Oh well. 

Patrick blows out a long breath. “That’s—wow. That’s enough for me to finally get my MBA.”

“Why do you need an MBA?” 

“Not relevant to the topic at hand, is it?” Patrick’s never been this snarky before. Their dynamic has shifted; they both realize that Patrick has the power here. Despite the look on his face, David doesn’t feel worried about Patrick taking advantage. David’s not sure why, but he’s realizing he might like this version of Patrick. The real Patrick, he’s guessing. The Patrick his friends see instead of uptight, professional Patrick.

“Will you do it?” David says, shaking his hands out a little. “Because if you’re not willing, I need to—”

“I’ll do it,” Patrick says. He leans back in his chair, resting his foot on his knee as he sprawls back. “But I have a few conditions.”

David probably should’ve expected negotiation given Patrick’s job. “What are they?”

“For starters, we’re going to my best friend’s wedding.” David hates how hot he finds Patrick’s cocky grin. 

“I’m sorry, we?”

“Well, why wouldn’t I take my fiancé with me? If we were engaged, I’d want to show you around my hometown, introduce you to everyone. It would be suspicious if I didn’t, don’t you think?” Patrick’s having fun with this, David can tell. 

“Have you considered the repercussions of that?” David can’t sit still any longer. He gets up, letting out a frustrated sigh when he realizes that Patrick’s office is too small to pace in. “If you take me back to your hometown, everyone you know will think you’re interested in men.”

“Who says I’m not interested in men?” 

Oh. David wasn’t expecting that. He tries not to stereotype, but… Well, it’s always easier to get over crushes when David can tell himself that the other person isn’t interested in men. Not that he’d ever had a crush on Patrick or anything. He’d suppressed any feelings he may or may not have had a week into their working relationship.

“Fair enough. But what about the opening? We can’t afford to take a weekend off.”

“Oh, we won’t be going for a weekend,” Patrick grins. “See, if you were really my fiancé, I’d want you to meet my family. I’d need at least four or five days for that.”

“Oh my god,” David groans. “Are you—you’re doing this to fuck with me!” 

“Maybe a little. Can you blame me? This is the most fun I’ve had all week,” Patrick laughs. “And we don’t need to worry about the opening. Like I told you before, as long as we bring our laptops we can work from anywhere. I’m glad you’re going to get to see that first hand.”

“Fine,” David huffs, throwing himself back into his chair. “I’ll give you the money and we’ll go to your hometown. Is that all?”

“One last thing,” Patrick says, rolling his shoulders. “We should sign a prenup before we make it official. I’m sure you have a lawyer for that kind of thing.”

David frowns. “What exactly do you want this prenup to say?”

“We both leave the marriage with what we came into it,” Patrick tells him. There’s an overwhelming sincerity in his eyes. “I don’t want you to worry about me taking advantage.”

“I’m asking you to get fake married to me and you’re worried that you’ll be taking advantage?” 

“We’re not getting fake married,” Patrick says, and by the glint in his eyes, David can already tell he’s going to be pedantic. “I’m pretty sure it has to be legal for them to let you stay in the country, David.”

David rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever. So we’re good? We have to get married by next month, so we can get everything figured out after your little trip.”

“Our little trip,” Patrick says with a horrible impression of a wink. “I’ll book the tickets tonight. We’ll leave Tuesday.”

“Use my card,” David says with a wave of his hand. “And get a car to take us to the airport. JFK. I refuse to fly out of LaGuardia.”

“You know you can’t expense the tickets, right?”

“Ugh, yes, I know,” David snaps, his face flushing with the memory of Patrick explaining to him what a write off was. 

“Don’t you want to know where we’re going?” Patrick asks as David leaves his office.

“Does it even matter?” David says, already halfway out the door.

* * *

The next few days fly by. David works even longer hours than usual, staying up late into the night. Patrick had said they could work from his hometown, but David’s anxiety won’t let him leave without being ahead enough that he won’t need to. By the time Tuesday rolls around, he’s exhausted. If he didn’t have such a thorough skincare routine, he’s sure it would show on his face. 

He and Patrick haven’t talked much about the trip. He’d made Patrick send him a picture of his suit so that David could coordinate for the wedding, but that was it. They can figure the rest out on the plane, David figures. 

Patrick shows up at his apartment at nine since he’s one of those people who think you need to show up a ridiculous number of hours before your flight. David’s not a fan. But when his doorman sends Patrick up, he sees that he’s brought bagels from David’s favourite place, so he decides to forgive him.

“You know we’re only going for a week, right?” Patrick asks, making a show of looking over all of David’s luggage. Patrick only has a carry on and his laptop bag.

“Sweaters take up a lot of space, and I needed a garment bag for my suit. Are you going to be like this the whole time we’re gone?”

“I plan on it, yes,” Patrick grins. “The car’s already here. Do you have everything? Passport?”

“Why would I need my passport?”

“Because we’re going to Canada,” Patrick says as if that makes any sense.

“I thought we were going to your hometown,” David demands.

“We are.”

“But you’re an American?” 

“Dual citizenship. My dad’s from Albany and mom’s from a town outside of Toronto.” Patrick explains. “And the fact that you didn’t know that is a good reminder of the binder your lawyer dropped off two days ago.”

“What binder?” 

“Let’s get in the car and I’ll tell you about it,” Patrick says. He turns around and heads out without bothering to ask if David needs help with his bags. Rude.

It turns out that Patrick is one of those weird people who enjoy making small talk with drivers. David is the kind of person who tips fifty percent if they don’t talk to him, so he leans against the car door and pretends that he can’t hear them. They make it to the airport well before their flight, but David has to stand around waiting after security since Patrick doesn’t have TSA precheck. By the time they’re together again, they barely have enough time to walk to their gate. The plane is already boarding when David finally looks down at his ticket. 

“What the fuck, did you book us _economy_?” David accuses. Patrick grins back at him, not the least bit apologetic.

“I thought you might enjoy learning how the other half lives,” he teases. It’s too late for David to try to bump them up to first class, so he just follows Patrick to the back of the plane, frowning the whole time.

David’s never flown economy before, obviously. He makes Patrick take the middle seat, but even with being able to stick his legs into the aisle, he’s still incredibly cramped. 

“Do you have any idea how uncomfortable this is for someone who’s tall?” David demands. “My knees are pressed up against the back of the seat!”

“That sounds rough, David. Do you think you’re gonna make it?”

“Okay!” David says because he’s frazzled enough that Patrick’s sass has stopped being cute. Thank fuck the flight to Toronto is only two hours. “You said there was a binder?”

Patrick pulls it out of his laptop bag, handing it over to David. “Your lawyer said that there’s a chance immigration will flag our case. If they do, they’ll give us separate interviews to see if we slip up. Luckily, I already know everything about you, but you’re going to need to learn all of this stuff about me.”

“You don’t know everything about me,” David says, narrowing his eyes.

“Are you sure? I can name every member of your family, every person you’ve dated in the last two years. A handful of people you’ve dated before I met you, too. I know where you went to school—”

“That’s creepy,” David glares. “But fine, we’ll skip over me.” He flips open the binder, glancing through it. “Let’s start with your family. If I’m going to be meeting them, I should probably know who they are.”

Patrick’s eyes go soft as he talks about his parents. He paints a picture of a childhood that sounds completely foreign to David, with family camping trips and playing catch in the backyard. It’s like something out of a coming of age movie. David didn’t think things like that were real.

“You sound close,” David says. “Are they going to believe that you got engaged without telling them?”

That makes Patrick’s face shut down. He looks away, running his hands over his jeans. “We haven’t been close recently,” he says after a beat. “I haven’t seen them since I moved to the city. We talk on the phone sometimes, but I guess I’ve been avoiding them.”

“Why?” David can understand wanting to avoid your family—he certainly avoids his. But if his family were like Patrick’s, he’s not sure that he would. 

“That’s a question.” Patrick scrubs his hands over his face. This is another new side of Patrick. He’s vulnerable, maybe a little nervous. David has the wild impulse to reach out and touch his knee, but he forces himself not to. “So, uh. I guess you would know this if we were getting married. I was actually engaged before I moved here? To a woman. Rachel, I mean. We’d been dating since high school, on and off, but it never really worked. A month or two before I moved here, I figured out why that was. And then I ran away.”

There’s a lot to unpack there. Patrick looks hesitant as if the words are physically painful to get out. David presses him for more information anyway. “Why didn’t you work?”

“We didn’t work because I’m gay,” Patrick says in a rush. “My parents don’t know. Nobody back home knows besides Rachel. That’s… That’s one of the reasons I agreed to this. It’s going to force me to come out, and I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to do that for two years.”

David can’t resist any longer. He moves his hand, giving Patrick’s knee a comforting squeeze. “Thank you for telling me,” he says. “That’s really brave, what you’re doing.” Patrick doesn’t jerk his leg away, so at least there’s that.

“The brave thing would’ve been to tell them ages ago,” Patrick laughs. “I think… I think it will be fine. And if it’s not, we can stay at the motel until the wedding.”

“Wait, what? Where are we staying if it does go well?”

“With my parents. Why wouldn’t we?”

Oh god. This week suddenly got ten times more painful. “I was under the impression we’d be staying at a hotel.”

“Nope.” Patrick’s grin is back. He seems to love torturing David. “And even if we wanted to we couldn’t. The only place to stay in Schitt’s Creek is the motel my friend Stevie runs.”

“Schitt’s Creek?” David exclaims so loudly that the woman sleeping in the window seat turns to glare at him. He glares right back, completely unapologetic. What does she expect when choosing to fly economy? “I thought we were going to Toronto!”

“Toronto is the closest airport. My parents are going to meet us there, and then there’s a two-hour drive home.”

David lets out a groan. He’s about to complain more, but then a thought hits him. “So when exactly do you plan on telling them?”

“At the airport?” Patrick says, biting his lip. “I figured I’d introduce you as my fiancé and then see what happens.”

“Fuck!” David says, turning to glare at window seat woman before she could say anything. “We’re engaged. We don’t have, like, an engagement ring or anything.”

“Unlike you, I came prepared.” Patrick reaches into his pocket, pulling out a boring, understated gold band. He slips it onto his own ring finger.

“Okay, gross. I would never buy you that ring. We’re going to tell everyone that I proposed before we could get your real ring from the jeweller.” He thinks for a moment, trying to picture what he would’ve picked out if he had proposed. “It’s 24 karat white gold, with two rows of sapphires and diamonds on the diagonal. And thinner than that bulky thing. It makes your fingers look too short.”

“I have no idea what that looks like, but okay,” Patrick says with a laugh. “Why sapphires?”

David pinches the fabric on Patrick’s shoulder. He’s wearing a blue button-up which is nearly identical to every other button-up David’s seen him wear.

“I didn’t think you noticed what I wear.”

“I notice everything you wear,” David says. His eyes widen at the implication, and he quickly walks it back. “You know how much I care about clothes.”

“Fair enough.” 

They’re quiet for a moment. David keeps flipping through the binder. How on earth is he going to learn all of this?

“I can tell you more tonight,” Patrick says, looking over at him. “We can go over all of my friends and the people you’re going to meet at the wedding.”

“We’ve got time,” David agrees, trying not to feel too anxious about it.

“But there is one other thing we should figure out before you meet my parents.” Patrick shifts in his seat, looking as uncomfortable as he had when he came out to David. “If we’re—if we’re really engaged, people are going to expect us to look like a couple.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know,” Patrick says, even though David clearly does not know. “Holding hands. Laughing at each other’s jokes. Pretending like we like each other.”

“Oh.” David takes a moment to try to picture that. The worst part is that it’s not the first time he’s imagined it. This week is going to be hell. “We can do that. And if we’re light on the PDA, everyone will assume it’s because you’re newly out.”

“Right, yeah,” Patrick agrees with a nod. “Even still… Maybe we should practice a little after we land? We’ll have some time before we make it through immigration and find my parents.”

“You want to practice holding hands?” David asks skeptically. “We could do that right now.” He reaches out, taking Patrick’s hand and twining their fingers together. He’d done it to prove a point, but once it’s happened he starts to regret it. How was he supposed to know that holding Patrick’s hand would make his stomach flip? Is he living in some kind of regency novel? Patrick’s hand is warm, and David can feel the calluses on his fingers. He could benefit from a moisturizer, but David can’t bring himself to care. 

“I guess you’re right,” Patrick agrees. He pulls his hand out of David’s and David’s heart pangs at the loss. Fuck, he needs to get himself together. “We don’t need to practice that. Let’s just… Let’s start acting when we get off the plane. That will give us some time to get our heads in the right place.”

“Sure,” David agrees. “So tell me, what’s our backstory? How long have we been together?”

Patrick taps his thumbs on his knees as he thinks. “I guess… If I were going to marry you, we would’ve had to be dating for a while. Maybe we started dating a few weeks after I joined the gallery? I worked up the nerve to ask you out, and we went from there.”

“Do we use pet names?” David asks. “I’m not big into pet names.” He’d never been in a relationship where he used them, at least.

“Maybe not always, but I think we would,” Patrick says. “Babe, baby, honey, stuff like that.”

“Nope, not doing babe,” David says with a sharp shake of his head. “That will only remind me of my sister and her disgusting love life. She always calls her boyfriends babe.”

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have told me that, babe,” Patrick says with a wide grin. “There’s no escaping it now.”

“Why did I agree to marry you again?” David shoots back. If his cheeks heat up a little when Patrick says babe, well. He couldn’t have known that would happen. 

“Because of how good I am in bed, probably,” Patrick says, which only serves to fluster David more. “But remember, you’re the one that proposed to me.”

“The things we do for sex,” David rolls his eyes. 

David straightens up a little when the pilot announces their descent. He’s never been afraid of flying, but the landings always put him a little on edge. He’s not going to tell Patrick that, though. 

“We might as well start practicing now,” he says. He pushes up the armrest between them, wrapping an arm around Patrick and pulling him closer. He doesn’t know what’s more surprising: how natural it feels to hold Patrick, or how much having Patrick pressed against his side calms his nerves. 

“Got to get used to it, yeah,” Patrick agrees. There’s something strange in his voice, and David wonders if it’s because Patrick doesn’t want to be touching him. Fuck, what if Patrick realizes how much David _does_ want to be touching him? Is he feeling creeped out by this entire thing? 

Patrick shifts a little, and then he tucks his head against David’s neck. His breath ghosts against David’s skin, and it sends a jolt down to his cock. Patrick relaxes into him, and for a moment it feels real. What would his life be like if he really did get to come home to this every day? 

“Your cologne smells good,” Patrick murmurs. 

“It’s a gender-neutral perfume, but thank you.” When David inhales, he can smell hints of Patrick’s shampoo. It smells like it probably came from a three dollar all-in-one, which is incorrect. Somehow, though, it smells nice on Patrick. 

When they land, David learns how long economy takes to deplane. In any other circumstance, he’d be tense and impatient, but right now he’s not complaining. Patrick’s still tucked against him, and David’s not ready for it to stop. 

“Our turn,” David says when it’s time, running his hand over Patrick’s side. They get their bags and head out separately, but as soon as they’re off the plane Patrick takes his hand. 

Going through customs is a little nerve-racking. David slides over his passport, wondering if the agent will comment on his nearly-expired visa combined with his round-trip ticket. But the woman stamps it without a second glance, and then they’re walking towards baggage claim. 

Patrick suddenly stops short, squeezing David’s hand tightly. “That’s them,” he breathes, barely loud enough to be heard over the din of the airport. He nods towards a middle-aged couple standing across the room. Somehow, they look exactly like David expected them to look. They haven’t noticed Patrick yet, so they have a moment. 

“Are you ready?” David asks. 

“Yeah,” Patrick says in a shaky voice. “But maybe I should break it to them gently?” He lets go of David’s hand and immediately shoves his into his pockets. 

“It’s going to be okay,” David says, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

“Thank you, David,” Patrick says, his eyes burning with sincerity. He takes a deep breath, stands up a little straighter, and then the two of them walk over to Patrick’s parents.


	3. Chapter 3

When Patrick was seven he went to summer camp for the first time. On the second day of camp, his cabin went to the swimming pool. Patrick passed his swim test easily, which meant he got to go in the deep end with the big kids. He was thrilled.

The bigger kids weren’t too thrilled that Patrick was tagging along. They splashed him and dunked his head underwater, and then one of them dared Patrick to jump off the high dive. None of the other kids had been brave enough to do it. 

Patrick can remember the way his heart pounded as he climbed up the ladder. In his mind, the top of the high dive felt as tall as the CN Tower. The rough surface of the board scraped against his feet as he walked forward. There was one long moment where Patrick focused on how far away the water was. He heard the jeers of the older boys, and it was almost enough to send him climbing back down the ladder. But he wouldn’t let them win. He had closed his eyes and jumped off. The moment before he hit the water felt like an eternity, but his panic slipped away. As soon as he’d taken that step, everything else faded away. He’d done it. It didn’t matter how it turned out because he’d done it. 

Patrick hasn’t thought about that moment for years, but as he and David walk across the concourse towards his parents it pops into his head. He’s never backed down from a challenge. He’s not sure how this will go, but he knows he can do it. And once it’s over, the most important thing will be that he’s done it, not what happens next. 

David is a warm presence by his side as he walks towards his parents, but he wants more. He misses the feeling of David’s hand in his. Maybe it’s a sign of how nervous he is, or maybe it’s the result of two years of being attracted to David, but something about holding David’s hand had felt right in a way that Patrick couldn’t remember feeling before. He’d leaned into that feeling, snuggling close into David’s arms and letting himself pretend for a moment that it was real. David presented himself to the world as a prickly asshole, but the way he’d cradled Patrick softly against his chest had shattered his masquerade instantly. David could be soft when he wanted to be, and there was no going back from that realization. 

“Patrick!” His mom sees him first, and then she’s darting over to pull him into a hug. His dad is close behind, pulling Patrick close as soon as his mom lets go. Patrick can see the tears in both of their eyes, and he’s pretty sure there might be some in his too. 

Once they’ve all said their hellos, Patrick takes a step back. _You can do this._ When glances over, David gives him an encouraging nod.

“Mom, Dad,” he starts. “This is, uh. This is David.”

“The same David you work for?” his father asks, and when Patrick nods both of his parents share the same confused expression. They haven’t heard a lot about David, but they both know he’s not particularly easy to work for. 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” David says, all charm as he shakes their hands.

“When Patrick said he was bringing a plus one, we both thought it might be a girlfriend,” his mom says with a teasing expression. Patrick’s heart starts pounding even harder. “But it’s great to meet you, David. We’ve heard so much about you.” David flinches a little at that as if he has some idea of what they might have heard. 

“Um,” Patrick says, and his parents’ attention shifts back to him. He clasps his hands together, sure his anxiety is obvious from the way he’s fidgeting. “David isn’t only my boss. I invited him with me because he’s my fiancé. We’ve been together for the last two years, and I’ve never been happier.”

He wants to close his eyes, terrified of what he might see on their faces. Instead, he meets their gaze straight on, projecting the confidence that he doesn’t feel. 

“You’re engaged to David?” his mother asks, confusion written all over her face. Patrick’s heart sinks. 

“Yeah. To David.”

She blinks a few times like she doesn’t understand it, but then she shakes her head and starts to smile. “Patrick, you’re getting married!” she exclaims. She steps forward, pulling Patrick into her arms again. “You are the only thing that matters to us, sweet boy,” she tells him in a soft whisper. “I'm so proud of you.”

Oh. Maybe it was the David part of the equation that was confusing her, not the man part. He knows she must have questions, but that’s not anything they can get into in front of David. It gives him some time to think about what to say.

“Dad?” he asks hesitantly, taking a step back. 

“If I had known we had something to celebrate, I would’ve bought some champagne.” He pulls him into another hug, and Patrick sinks into his arms for a moment. He’s spent so much time building this moment up in his head, and now it’s finally happened. He wishes that he’d had the courage to do this years ago. He can’t even feel guilty for lying to them. He’s too thrilled that they finally know the truth, even if he can’t be completely honest. 

When he pulls away from his dad, David reaches out for his hand. His eyes are warm when he looks at Patrick, which has certainly never happened before. Patrick can feel the flush that gaze is bringing on, quickly looking away. 

“We should get our bags,” Patrick says because he needs a moment after that. He and David walk over to the baggage carousel, far enough away to have some privacy.

“How are you feeling?” David asks. “That went well.”

“I feel like I ran a marathon,” Patrick says with an overwhelmed laugh. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“And I can’t believe I’m about to stay in a town called Schitt’s Creek, but here we are.” David wraps his arm around Patrick’s back. He knows it’s only for show, with his parents watching from a few feet away, but it’s comforting enough that Patrick ignores it. 

When Patrick had negotiated David into coming with him, he hadn’t given much thought to the fact that David would have to interact with his parents. He’d been too focused on teasing David now that he finally could without the risk of losing his job. If he had thought about it, he never would’ve predicted how well David ingratiates himself with Patrick’s family. He’s always known that David could be charming—he’s seen the personality David puts on when schmoozing with potential buyers. It’s probably all an act, but David spends the entire drive back to Schitt’s Creek chatting with his parents. It’s a far cry from the sullen, distracted version of David that Patrick works for.

There’s a small part of him that wonders how David will react to his parents’ house. He knows he’s completely disgusted by Schitt’s Creek—the look on David’s face when they pass the town’s sign gives that away immediately. David’s used to a certain level of luxury, a level that Patrick probably can’t even fathom. What is he going to think about his mother’s thrifted tchotchkes or the ugly shag carpet that his parents have talked about replacing for years? They’re solidly middle class. Growing up in Schitt’s Creek Patrick had been a little more well off than a lot of his friends. He went to The States twice a year to see his Dad’s family when most of his friends hadn’t even been on a plane. He’s on the other side now, biting his lip and trying not to be too obvious about watching David’s reaction when his father pulls into the driveway.

“Home sweet home,” his dad says, going around to carry in their bags. 

“Dad, you don’t need to do that,” Patrick protests, but his father is already halfway to the door. David slips his arm around Patrick, following his parents inside. David looks around for a moment, and then his face breaks out into a wide grin. 

“Oh my god, I love these,” he says, pulling away from Patrick to look at the photos hanging on the wall in the living room. He stops in front of a picture from his aunt’s wedding. Patrick’s about five years old, and he’s tugging at the collar of his suit, glaring at the camera. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this pissed off.”

“He was quite the troublemaker,” his mother grins. “He disappeared during the reception, and we found him trying to flush his bowtie down the toilet.”

“Okay, I don’t think David wants to hear about that—” Patrick protests. He hadn’t thought of this aspect of David coming home with him either. He’d never had his parents share embarrassing stories with anyone he’d dated, but then, they’d only ever met Rachel. Rachel had been there for most of Patrick’s childhood, so there wasn’t much left to tell. He feels the blush rising up his neck, which only makes David’s grin wider. 

“Oh, I absolutely want to hear about it,” David says. He pulls Patrick closer, rubbing at his shoulders as if to soothe his embarrassment. 

“Just wait until we pull out the scrapbooks,” his father grins. “When he was four or five years old, Marcy made him a cape for a Halloween costume. Patrick wore it every single day, and when he went to bed he’d tuck it under his pillow. He said it was so no one would figure out his secret identity. We finally had to throw it away while he was sleeping because it had gotten so disgusting.”

“You know what, why don’t we go put our bags upstairs,” Patrick says over David’s laughter, desperate to end this conversation. “I can give David a tour.”

“No, no, you’re not staying upstairs,” his mother protests. For a moment, he wonders if she’s not going to let them sleep in the same room. It would be convenient—he’s sure David would appreciate having his own space if Patrick ended up taking the basement. But it would mean something—it would be the first flicker that his parents weren’t okay with this, weren’t okay with Patrick. 

“Um. Why not?” 

“You should both stay in the basement. I’m sure you’ll appreciate the privacy,” she says with a suggestive wink, and now Patrick’s face really is on fire. So much for them not being okay with it—his mom is actively encouraging them to have sex. That’s not something Patrick needed.

“Patrick’s old room shares a wall with ours,” his father adds, and David lets out a laugh. 

“Well, we appreciate it,” David says. He runs his hands down Patrick’s arms, and he has to repress a shiver. Fuck, how is he supposed to survive this for a whole week?

They carry their bags downstairs, and David pauses in the middle of the room to look around. Patrick tries to see it through his eyes. It’s not much. There’s a double bed, a dresser that he knows is full of his mother’s winter clothing, stacks of plastic tubs filled with god knows what. There’s a huge, boxy CRT TV on top of a dresser, and Patrick laughs when he notices that his old PlayStation is still plugged into it. David doesn’t look very impressed, but he doesn’t start talking about a hotel room so it can’t be too bad.

“This used to be where I hung out with all my friends,” Patrick tells David, tossing his bag on the bed. “We’d stay up late playing Doom, and then we’d all have to pretend the next morning that we weren’t tired.”

“You and I had very different childhoods,” David says. He walks over to the bathroom, popping his head in the door. He must decide it’s passable, because then he says, “Do you mind if I shower? Flying always makes me feel disgusting.”

“Sure,” Patrick nods. “It’ll give me and my parents some time to talk.”

Once Patrick is sure that David knows how to turn on the water, he heads back upstairs. “David’s taking a shower,” he explains, leaning against the counter. 

“You know the rules,” his mother says, gesturing over to where his father is peeling carrots for her. “You want to stay in the kitchen, you have to help.”

“How could I forget,” Patrick grins. It’s nice to slip back into this old routine, and for a moment it feels like he’d never left. 

“I like David,” his father says, glancing over at him. “From everything you’d mentioned about him, well… I’d imagined him very differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounded like he was working you to the bone. I’d never thought you were friends, let alone fiancés.” There’s no judgement in his mother’s voice.

“I, um...” Patrick blows out a long breath. “I wasn’t ready to talk about him yet, I think. I kept promising myself that I’d tell you—and I did want to tell you, but—”

“Was it something we did?” his mother asks in a quiet voice, and it’s enough to make Patrick set down his knife and turn to her.

“No, I promise, it had nothing to do with you. It was all me. I was nervous so I put it off, and after a while, it had been so long that it felt like it might be too late.”

His mother nods, smiling slightly. “I’m glad you did. I don’t want you to ever think you can’t talk to us. We’re in your corner, sweet boy. No matter what.”

Patrick turns back to his cutting board, glad that he can blame the stinging in his eyes on the onions. “I know that now,” he says softly.

“What changed?” his dad asks. “What made you decide to tell us?”

“David.” It’s true; without David, Patrick might never have ended up back home. Would he have had the courage to do it on his own? If he judges by the last two years, probably not. “He makes me feel brave.”

“How did that happen?” his mother says. “We didn’t think you got along. Wasn’t he the reason you weren’t going to be able to come to the wedding?”

“It’s complicated,” Patrick says, picking back up the knife. “I think—the thing is, David’s a very focused person. He tunes out everything that isn’t relevant to his work, and sometimes that includes me. So for a while in the beginning I thought he hated me. Once I got to know him, I realized how soft he can be.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to getting to know him myself,” his mother says. “He must be special if he’s won your heart.”

“I’ve never seen you blush so much before,” his father teases. 

“He’s really good for me,” Patrick says. “Before David… I always felt so stuck. Stuck in my job, stuck in my relationships. Everything feels different now.” 

“This is the happiest you’ve seemed in years,” his mother smiles. “That’s all we ever wanted for you, Patrick.”

He knows she means it; he’s always known, even if his fear was keeping him away. He scrubs at his eyes with the back of his arm, fighting to keep himself together. No matter what happens this week, what happens with David, Patrick knows he won’t ever regret coming. Not when it led to this. 

“Something smells amazing,” David says twenty minutes later as he walks into the kitchen. He looks exactly like he had before—distractingly gorgeous—but he seems a little more relaxed after his shower. 

“I hope you’re hungry,” Marcy says as she carries a tray to the table. “We made Patrick’s favourite.”

Dinner goes well, David completely enchanting his parents while at the same time extracting the most embarrassing stories. His mother gets up to do the dishes, and Patrick finds the perfect opportunity to mess with David. 

“Oh no, Mom, let us do it,” Patrick says. “David always does the dishes at home. I’m sure he’d love to help.”

David’s face looks pained, but he has no choice but to agree. “We’d love to help.”

“If you insist,” his dad says. “Come out to the living room when you’re done. I’m going to put the game on.”

“What game?” David hisses when they’re alone in the kitchen. “And do I have to be there while it’s on?”

“You wouldn’t want to be rude, would you?” Patrick grins. “My family takes baseball very seriously.”

“Fuck off,” David glares at him. He stops a few feet away from the sink, clearly unsure of what to do. 

“You wash, I’ll dry,” Patrick says, and then he leans back against the counter to see what David’s going to do. David steps forward and turns on the water. He reaches for a dish and then seems to think better of it, setting it down on the counter and turning off the water. “Are there gloves?”

“Nope. And stop stalling.”

“I’m not,” David snaps. He pauses for a moment, and then the pained look is back. “I might not actually know how to do this.”

“You’ve never done dishes before?” Patrick asks. He’d suspected that, but it’s fun to force David to say it. 

“Okay, isn’t that what having staff is for? Or, like, a dishwasher.” David’s starting to look flustered, so Patrick takes pity on him. 

“Here,” he says, tossing David the towel and walking to the sink. “Do you think you can figure out how to dry? And you might want to pay attention because I’m making you do this tomorrow.”

David’s only response is a glare, which only deepens when Patrick starts to whistle a song he knows David will hate. Patrick’s having the time of his life.

It only gets better when they go to the living room. 

“Do I have to watch this the whole time?” David asks in a whisper. The loveseat is a little small for two grown men, so they’re pressed against each other thigh to thigh.

“Traditionally, you watch to the end, David.”

“Fuck,” David groans, but luckily his parents don’t seem to have heard. “Is this one of those sports that takes hours to end?”

“How many hours would you survive before you faked a medical emergency to leave?”

“Is twenty minutes an option?”

Patrick makes him watch for at least a few innings because watching David try to pretend that he’s interested as his father explains sabermetrics to him is incredibly amusing. If Patrick had been the one explaining, he’s sure David wouldn’t have held his tongue. 

There’s also a part of him that knows that the longer they watch the game, the longer he gets to spend pressed up to David. David can’t seem to get comfortable, and finally, Patrick sighs and helps them rearrange into a less awkward position. He ends up half on his side, his knees curled up as he rests his head on David’s chest. It gives David a little more room to spread out, and the worst of the fidgeting stops. But he can’t stay completely still, and Patrick feels David’s hand start tracing patterns over Patrick’s ribs.

God, David has the most gorgeous hands. Long, thick fingers, and those rings. Patrick tried to analyze the way David wears his rings once. He’d make a note of how they were arranged every day, trying to track it to David’s mood or some other pattern. He’d given up after a month or so, partly because he wasn’t getting anywhere, and partly because he knew it was a creepy thing to do. But now… Now noticing David’s hands isn’t creepy. He’s finally allowed to look, to touch. He slips his hand up to meet David’s, sliding his thumb over the rings. He fidgets with them as he talks to his mother about their World Series predictions as if it’s something he’s done a hundred times. 

Eventually, though, he has to get up. David’s been surprisingly civil all day, but he knows that won’t last until the end of the game. “We’ve had a long day,” he tells his parents. “We should probably get to bed.”

“Have fun,” his mother winks and Patrick groans back at her. 

“Dinner was lovely. Thank you again,” David says.

As they walk to the basement, Patrick realizes that he’d had a good night, all things considered. It’s not hard to picture more nights like this, teasing David to draw out that pinched face followed by chatting and laughing with his parents. It’s something he’d never enjoyed with Rachel when they were together. He’d always felt vaguely uncomfortable with how much his parents loved her. It had made him feel like he had to stick it out so his parents got the daughter they’d never had. But with David… With David, Patrick can see himself wanting that. It’s a terrifying realization.

When they get downstairs they’re faced with the one, very small bed that they’re both supposed to share. Patrick doesn’t know if he’s terrified or excited, but his stomach is in knots.

They take turns in the bathroom, and Patrick drags his shower out. He’s tempted to jerk off—it seems like the safest way to avoid embarrassing himself—but the risk of David overhearing would be as bad as any accidental boners. By the time he flosses his teeth for the second time, Patrick knows he’s stalling. Maybe if he takes long enough, David will be asleep when he gets out, and they can avoid any awkward conversation.

Unfortunately, David is very much awake. Patrick steps out of the bathroom, hair dripping down his neck, and David looks up. That makes it very likely that he notices Patrick’s reaction to seeing David’s pyjamas. They’re not really pyjamas—David could wear them outside and he’d still be better dressed than anyone he ran into. He wears them so well. The long sleeve shirt is tighter than the sweaters he normally wears, emphasizing his chest. And there’s a dip of a V-neck with a patch of chest hair poking out. Patrick wants to drag his fingers through that hair, wants to bury his face in it. Patrick can see the bulge of David’s cock through his joggers, and fuck, he needs to distract himself.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, gesturing towards David’s phone. It’s probably something work-related, and that’s the perfect distraction.

“Texting,” David says, dropping his head back down. Any openness from this afternoon is gone, his face shutting down at the question. It’s disappointing, but Patrick knows he shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Anyone I know?” Patrick asks. He pulls down the duvet, and David slips his legs underneath it. 

“Mm,” David hums in response. Patrick glances over—it’s hard not to look with how small the bed is—and his stomach sinks. Sebastien.

“I thought that was over.” He knows he shouldn’t get involved. It’s none of his business. He says it anyway.

“And I thought I’d be sleeping in a hotel tonight, but here we are.”

“Did you hate my parents that much?”

“What? No.” David sets down his phone, frowning over at Patrick. “Your parents are great. It feels like being in an episode of The Brady Bunch but without all of the annoying kids. You _like_ each other.”

“I don’t know about The Brady Bunch, though. You’re the one who grew up with a housekeeper.”  
Patrick should be used to David’s strained relationship with his parents by now, but it still stings to hear David mention liking his family like it’s something rare. Patrick’s never met David’s parents, but he’s heard the voicemails they’ve left at the gallery. He’s heard the voicemails they didn’t leave, too, when they’ve forgotten David’s birthday and every other significant event in his life. That has to hurt. 

“I didn’t grow up with a housekeeper. I grew up with staff,” David says as if that makes a difference. 

“Right, right, excuse me. That’s entirely different.” Patrick’s side is pressed up against David’s and there’s not any room to pull away. He rolls on his side, facing away from David. That’ll hide any reaction he might have to the heat of David’s body next to his. 

David reaches to turn off the lamp, but he stays sitting up, tapping on his phone. They’re quiet long enough that Patrick’s nearly asleep when David speaks. 

“I wanted to tell you,” David says, and there’s an edge of hesitance in his voice that isn’t normal. “Today, what you did—coming out to your parents, that was a big moment. You should feel proud of yourself.”

David’s never said anything like that to Patrick before. He swallows, giving himself a second to get his emotions in check.

“Thank you, David. That really—it means a lot.” 

There’s a soft pressure on the center of his back, David’s hand brushing over his back for one quick moment. “I’ve never been around a family like yours before,” he says. “Somehow today was sixty percent less miserable than I expected it to be.”

“Oh, it’s far too early to say that,” Patrick says with a grin, he rolls around to face David, forgetting how close they are. Their noses are two inches apart, and his heart flips as he meets David’s eyes in the dark. “Wait until you meet my cousins. That’ll shatter any illusions you have about my family being wholesome.”

“Doubtful,” David’s face curls into a half-smile. Patrick wants nothing more than to close the gap between them and press their lips together. They look so soft, and David smells so good from this close. 

Abruptly, David rolls onto his back, and the moment is gone. “I don’t understand why you would ever leave,” David says, staring up at the ceiling. “Do you ever regret it?”

Oh. Patrick hadn’t expected the conversation to go there. He lets out a sigh, turning onto his back as well. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” David says once the silence has stretched on for too long. “I know it’s personal.”

“Is anything too personal to tell my fiancé?” Patrick asks. Teasing David helps him relax a little, enough to keep talking. “I don’t know if I regret it. I miss them a lot, and I really hate the city. But… I’ve never found anything as fulfilling as working at your gallery. I love feeling like I’m a part of something special.”

“Our gallery,” David corrects him. “It’s as much yours as it is mine at this point.”

“I’m just the numbers guy, David. You’re the one with the vision.”

“I wouldn’t still have a gallery if it weren’t for you.” There’s something harsh in his voice, but it doesn’t feel like it’s directed at him. 

“David, that’s not true—” 

“I didn’t have one before you,” David interrupts. His voice is tight with emotion, and Patrick wishes he could roll over and see his face. “My parents… God, that was devastating.”

“It was a fucked up thing for them to do,” Patrick says. He can’t resist anymore, so he slides his hand over a few inches to find David’s. David goes still for a second, but then he’s curling their fingers together and holding on tight. “And they were wrong. You didn’t need the help. They’re not paying people off anymore, and you’re still turning a profit.”

David lets out a noncommittal hum. “Not the way I was before. We had to lay off so many staff, reduce our overhead significantly… I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I hadn’t had you. I probably would’ve given up.”

“I’m really glad you didn’t do that, David.”

“The worst part—well, apart from the obvious—the worst part was that before you figured it out, things had felt so steady. I… I’d liked working with you. I’d never hired someone outside of the art scene. It was refreshing to have an outsider’s perspective.”

“Why did that change?” Patrick tenses, a little scared to hear David’s answer. He’s been wondering this for years, but he never thought he’d have a chance to ask.

“How could it not?” David’s thumb runs over Patrick’s knuckles. It’s embarrassing how much the light brush of skin overwhelms him. He wonders if David even realizes that he’s doing it. “The gallery was the one good thing in my life. It was the first time I’d ever really felt like I was good at something, and then to find out I wasn’t actually good at anything after all? There you were, this gorgeous, brilliant man with a résumé full of jobs your parents hadn’t had to pay for. You showed up and figured out in a week what I hadn’t been able to see for years. It was humiliating. And I didn’t blame you for that—I was so glad that you did, that I wouldn't spend the rest of my career so oblivious. But knowing you were there, perfect and competent and judging me? I couldn’t handle it.”

Patrick forces himself not to focus on the word _gorgeous_ because that isn’t the point. Later on, when David isn’t in the midst of opening up to Patrick for the first time he’ll let himself focus on what that _gorgeous_ might mean.

“I was never judging you, David,” Patrick says after a moment. “You’ve always impressed me. You never let it demoralize you. You kept going, and you built yourself back up. I’ve always wanted to be that type of person—and maybe at one point I thought I was—but I know I’m really not. I spent fifteen years ignoring the problems I had with Rachel as if pretending they didn’t exist would make them go away. And when I couldn’t do that anymore, I ran away. But you… You would never run away. You’d never give up.”

“That’s not always a good thing,” David says. 

“What do you mean?”

“There are a lot of things that I should’ve given up on. Sebastien, for one. I’ve never been able to—I get so attached, and I ignore every red flag because the alternative is… Well. At least you left when you realized Rachel wasn’t right for you. I’ve never been the one to end a relationship, not ever. God, did you know Sebastien is—was my longest relationship? How pathetic is that?”

Patrick lets go of David’s hand, turning on his side to face him. David’s eyes are squeezed shut as if that’s the only way he could bear to get the words out. “You’re not pathetic,” he says. “It’s not your fault for staying in bad relationships. It’s your exes’ fault for being such pieces of shit.”

David lets out a little laugh at that. He rolls over to face Patrick, and suddenly things feel a lot more intimate. “Thank you, Patrick. It’s—I don’t think I’ve ever talked to anyone about any of this.”

Patrick can’t imagine how lonely that must feel. He can understand why David would replace one terrible partner for the next, just so that he wouldn’t have to be alone. Patrick’s felt a little lonely since moving to the city, but he has a handful of friends he’s made over the years. He has Rachel. He’s never felt like he didn’t have anyone to talk to, and he doesn’t want that for David.

“You can always talk to me,” Patrick says.

“That would have a little more weight if I weren’t paying you to listen to me,” David says it like a joke, but Patrick can hear the truth in his words. He knows about the nights at the club, about David’s card somehow being on everyone’s tab. He’s seen the revolving door of paramours, always talking about some new bag or a trip they want David to pay for. And now he’s been lumped into that category, someone who’s only sticking around for the money. He hadn’t asked for it, but it’s true all the same.

“If you hadn’t offered me money, I think I still would’ve done this,” Patrick says. “I don’t want you to get deported. I care about you, David.”

David inhales a little sharply, and then he rolls back over, away from Patrick. He pulls his arm over his eyes for a moment. When he rolls back, he’s put together again. Patrick wishes he wasn’t.

“Mm, but you do want that MBA,” David says, as if nothing had happened, “Even if you won’t tell me why. You should’ve told me you were interested. A lot of employers pay for their employees to go to school.”

“David, I’ve seen our profits. We’re doing well, but we definitely can’t afford to pay for my graduate school.” It’s a nice thought, though. Would David have offered it before today? He’s not sure.

“We might not be able to afford it, but I can,” David says with a shrug. “How do you think I paid your salary those first few months? I have a trust fund.”

“That’s not—I don’t want your money, David,” Patrick says. “The MBA… It’s a stupid idea, anyway.”

“You wouldn’t want it if it were stupid,” David says.

“It’s because I’ve always wanted to start my own business,” Patrick says in a rush. “But I’m not like you, David. I’m not good at creating something incredible from nothing. I’ve never been able to think of anything sustainable enough that wasn’t completely boring. And… I don’t know, I guess part of me thinks that maybe an MBA would help with that? But that’s a stupid reason to go to grad school, and it wouldn’t work, anyway. I don’t think you can force inspiration.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve had several trips that would disagree with you,” David teases. “But as I’m assuming you’re not interested in hallucinogens, I’d say you just need to find the right person to go into business with. Find someone who has an idea, but doesn’t know what the fuck to do with it.”

“Are you actively encouraging me to look for another job?” Patrick grins. “Because I think I remember you saying you couldn’t run the gallery without me.”

“Mm, did I say that?” David says with his twisted smile. Before Patrick can respond, he’s interrupted by a loud yawn.

“I think that means you should get to sleep.” David rolls back onto his side, settling in for the night. 

“Goodnight, fiancé.” 

“Goodnight, Patrick.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes, forgot to say this when I first posted, but cw for recreational drug use in this chapter

David doesn’t have a lot of experience sleeping in beds with other people. To be more specific, he doesn’t have a lot of experience sharing a bed on purpose, rather than because one or both of them passed out after sex or too many pills. He’s used to people slipping away in the middle of the night. The better nights are the ones when whoever he was sleeping with at least makes up an excuse. Most nights, they leave without bothering. Even with Sebastien, it had only happened a few times. David hadn’t minded. He’d always thought that he slept better alone, and maybe that’s true given how restless he feels right now. But he doesn’t think it’s Patrick’s gentle snoring or the pleasant warmth from where his leg has drifted over David’s that’s keeping him awake. No, the real problem is everything that had happened before Patrick fell asleep.

David expected to spend the entirety of his time here barricading himself in a spare room so that he could get as much work done as possible. He wasn’t a meet-the-parents kind of guy, so he figured the less interaction that had to happen, the better. He didn’t care if Patrick’s family thought he was rude. If anything, Patrick’s parents hating him would probably make it easier on everyone when they finally divorced. He had spent more time in much worse places to save Alexis from her own messes, so he was sure he could handle a few days in middle-class hell.

He was wrong. Marcy hugged him before they started the drive to Schitt’s Creek. She was warm and soft and lovely, and David realized that he couldn’t remember the last person who’d hugged him. It certainly wasn’t his mother. Maybe Adelina? He knew it was pathetic, but he found himself leaning in. He wanted to impress Patrick’s parents. He wanted to soak up every ounce of affection that he could get before it was all gone. He couldn’t imagine his family all sitting down at the same table to eat, let alone watching TV together on the sofa. It should have been the most boring hour of his life, but David was almost disappointed when it ended. Almost.

It isn’t exclusively because of Patrick’s parents, though. They aren’t even the main reason David’s maybe not regretting that he came here. It’s not even the fact that he’s allowed to lean into the fantasy of having someone in his life that wants him to stick around enough that they’re willing to put a ring on it, although he’s certainly been enjoying that aspect.

No, it’s not the idea of having a fiancé that’s keeping him up. It’s the idea of having Patrick. Their casual touches hadn’t felt as strained or awkward as they probably should. He’s had less of a visceral reaction from someone’s mouth on his cock than he had when Patrick slipped their hands together while they were talking.

David doesn’t do vulnerability as a general rule. He’s willing to humiliate himself a little to try to keep people from leaving him, but he’s never opened up solely because he trusted the other person. He never would’ve expected himself to open up to Patrick. Had they ever had a conversation that wasn’t about work before today? He would’ve thought he’d be left swarming with regrets, paralyzed by the idea of all of the ammunition he had given out freely. And there was some fear in the beginning, but that slipped away as Patrick’s warm brown eyes stared into his. _I care about you, David_ , he had said. When was the last time anyone had ever said that to him? When has anyone said anything that nice to David without wanting something in return?

He has to remind himself that this isn’t any different. Patrick’s here for the money, or maybe because he doesn’t want to have to find a new job. There’s a chance he’s here because he’s a freakishly nice person, but none of those reasons have anything to do with how he feels about David.

It’s a dangerous path to let himself go down. If he leans in any further, their divorce is going to destroy him.

The screen from his phone suddenly lights up the room. God, is it Sebastien again? Patrick had looked so disappointed. If there ever was a chance of Patrick feeling something for him, that was gone now. Now Patrick knew how desperate David was. He knew that David went crawling back to the people that hurt him, again and again as if anything would ever change.

He hadn’t meant to text Sebastien. He’d been going through work emails when the first text popped up. You up? A booty call after a breakup didn’t surprise David by now. If he’d been in the city, he probably would’ve done it. He’s never known how to say no. He could picture himself walking back to his apartment in the dark, with the disgusting feeling of come drying on his skin and the shame that he felt every time he found himself desperate for scraps of someone’s attention.

Instead, he’s lying in bed next to a beautiful man who’s been teasing him all day. Who’d said he cared. Is that any better? Patrick doesn’t want him, but Sebastien would’ve probably sucked his cock if he had gone over tonight. That’s something.

He moves slowly, not wanting to jostle Patrick awake as he reaches for his phone.

It’s not from Sebastien. David only vaguely remembers the name on the contact, and the message is just an address. It could be a dealer, or some exclusive party, or someone wanting a booty call. David sets his phone back down, facedown on the nightstand so it won’t bother him again. He looks over at Patrick’s peaceful face, almost angelic in sleep. Patrick says he knows everything about David, but does he know about all of that? David hasn’t been messy enough to end up on TMZ in a while, so there’s a chance he doesn’t know the extent of it. He’s seen David hungover often enough, though, so he’s got to assume. Yet another reason why David could never have someone like Patrick. Patrick’s certainly never showed up to work hungover.

David doesn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knows he’s waking up to an empty bed. He can hear the shower running, and when he glances over at his phone it’s earlier than anyone should be awake. He wants to roll back over and go to sleep, but there’s one thing stopping him. Patrick could be out of the shower any second, and even with the blankets, David’s not sure if he can hide how hard he is. As much as he might like to, he knows he can’t get away with doing anything about it. He needs a distraction, so he pulls his laptop out of his bag in hopes of getting a little work done.

Before he can even turn it on, he’s interrupted by a low moan coming from the bathroom. It’s slightly drowned out by the sound of the water, but there’s no mistaking it. Fuck, that can only be one thing. David’s cock had been starting to go down, but there’s no ignoring it now. He reaches down to cup himself before he can think better of it, ears straining to hear more.

His eyes slip shut, picturing what might be happening on the other side of that door. Patrick’s skin flushed red from the water, his head tipped back in pleasure. One hand fisting his cock while he brushes over his rim with the other. David’s leaking now, and he slips a hand under his joggers to rub the head of his cock through the wet spot in his briefs. There’s another broken moan, and David bites his lip hard to keep from making any noise.

The loud chime of his laptop booting up fills the room, and the sound of the shower goes steady as if Patrick has gone completely still. Fuck. Does he know that David can hear him? David doesn’t think he can handle facing Patrick if he does. He frantically reaches for his earbuds, slipping them into his ears for plausible deniability. He searches for the twangiest country song he can find, and by the time the bathroom door opens, David’s erection has completely gone down. He doesn’t look up when Patrick walks out, focusing hard on his screen like he hasn’t noticed Patrick coming out. In his peripheral, he can see Patrick bending over to go through his suitcase wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. His skin is as pink as David had imagined it. David tracks a droplet of water as it slides down his spine. Fuck, he needs to get out of here.

“Mind if I borrow the bathroom?” David asks, pulling his earbuds out. He tries to sound casual as if he’d only now noticed that Patrick was done with his shower.

He can see the muscles of Patrick’s back tense, and fuck, what he would do to bite them. He bets Patrick would bruise like a peach.

“Uh, sure,” Patrick says, not turning around. “I’ll change out here.”

He takes the coldest shower he can bear, and by the time he finishes with his hair and skincare routine he’s feeling a little less ragged. He double-checks that he’s presentable, and then he makes his way upstairs to find Patrick.

“Perfect timing,” Marcy greets him with a smile. “We were thinking we’d have breakfast on the patio since it’s such a nice day.”

David forces himself not to wince. Whatever it is they made for breakfast smells amazing, but David isn’t a huge fan of eating anywhere where there might be bugs. “That sounds lovely,” he says, and then goes into the kitchen when Marcy tells there’s coffee.

Patrick’s in the kitchen with his father. The tension in his shoulders is still there, and his face looks mildly flushed. Is it because of what happened this morning? Did his dad say something that upset him? David isn’t sure how a fiancé is supposed to react in this kind of situation.

“Good morning, honey,” he says, patting Patrick’s back as he walks to the coffee maker. “And good morning, Mr. Brewer. Breakfast smells great.”

“Patrick told me you liked French toast,” Clint says. “And please, call me Clint. We’re going to be family, aren’t we?”

“Mm, that’s true,” David says. He’s glad for the permission; he hasn’t called anyone Mr. since he was a child.

“Oh, I already made your coffee,” Patrick says before he can reach for the pot.

David sips from the mug that Patrick hands him. He can tell that it was probably pre-ground coffee, slightly too bitter and a little stale. Other than that, though, it’s been made perfectly. Patrick’s bought him coffee hundreds of times, so it probably shouldn’t surprise David that he remembers his coffee order. He’s reminded of the week before when Patrick had shown up in his office after his fight with Sebastien with coffee. Was this his way of apologizing for what David had overheard this morning? Was it him simply being nice? David can’t be sure.

The caffeine is already making him feel a little less miserable about being awake at such an ungodly hour. Breakfast helps even more, and by the time they’ve finished David feels a little more ready to start his day. There hadn’t been a single bug on the porch, which certainly helps.

Unsurprisingly, Patrick coerces him into helping with the dishes. He fusses enough to make Patrick finally find him a pair of gloves, snarking at him the entire time. The gloves feel gross against his skin, but it’s better than having to touch soggy food scraps. He starts slowly, carefully repeating everything he’d seen Patrick do the night before. When he rinses off the plate and hands it to Patrick, his teasing grin is back.

“Look at you learning!” Patrick exclaims. “Maybe I’ll teach you to do laundry next.”

“I don’t own a single piece of clothing that I would be willing to put in your washer,” David says dryly.

They work in silence for a little while. David can see the tension from before returning to Patrick’s shoulders, and after a few moments of debating, he decides to say something about it. God, not even two days in Mayberry and he’s already losing his ability to ignore the emotions of the people around him.

“Are you okay? You seem a little…”

“It’s nothing,” Patrick says too quickly, his face going bright red. David’s thoughts immediately jump to Patrick’s morning shower, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. “My dad… I had a weird conversation with my dad. That’s all.”

“What did he say to you?” David frowns, immediately jumping to the worst conclusions.

“No, no,” Patrick interrupts quickly. “It wasn’t like that. He was… He was being supportive.”

“Then why was it weird?”

“Not gonna let me get out of this one, huh, David?” Patrick asks, glancing over at David.

“You didn’t let me out of the dishes,” David says pointedly as he hands Patrick a pan.

Patrick sighs. The pan is dried and put away before he speaks again. “My dad was worried that we didn’t feel comfortable in front of them,” he says. “He—he got all emotional, saying he didn’t want me to feel like I had to hide who I am in front of them anymore.”

“Why does he think you’re hiding?” David asked as he stacked the utensils in their drawer. “Is it because it took you a while to come out?”

“No,” Patrick drags a hand over his neck, wincing when he realizes that it’s still wet. “Um. He was saying he didn’t want us to feel like we couldn’t be affectionate around them. And I—I was confused since last night on the couch we were kind of... But I guess he meant, uh. Kissing. And then he talked about how I’d never really seemed comfortable around Rachel, and how happy they were that I’d found someone that did make me feel comfortable. So it was well-meaning, I guess, but still a little weird.”

“Wait, your dad was upset because he hasn’t seen us making out?”

“No, god no,” Patrick says. The blush hasn’t faded, and David hates how endearing he finds it. “I don’t think he meant like that. More like, I don’t know. My mom always kisses my dad before he leaves the room, and he’ll kiss her temple whenever he gets back. Stuff like that.”

“Slightly less weird, then,” David allows. “What did you say to him?”

“I said that it wasn’t because I didn’t feel comfortable around them,” Patrick dries his hands on his jeans once he’s put the last dish away. That’s very incorrect, but David doesn’t bother saying anything. “And he asked if it was because you felt uncomfortable around them.”

“You told him that wasn’t true, right?”

“I started to, but then you came upstairs.”

“Fuck.” David pulls off the gloves and glances down at his hands to assess the damage. He’ll need to moisturize soon.

“Why do you care about what my parents think?” Patrick’s voice isn’t accusing, but he does sound surprised.

“I’ve never done this before!” David exclaims with a wild gesture that encapsulates both of them. “I’ve never done the whole meeting-the-parents thing. Well, except for when I was sleeping with someone’s parents, but that’s not the point. The point is—the point is that I want your parents to like me.”

“They do like you,” Patrick says quickly. “My mom wouldn’t shut up about you this morning while you were in the shower. She kept teasing me that you were out of my league.”

David scoffs at that. If anything, it’s the other way around. David might have money and nice skin, but Patrick has everything else—and somehow still has nice skin without half of the products David uses. It’s disgusting.

“I think you should talk to him,” David says. “Tell him he’s wrong.”

Patrick nods, but then his eyes dart away from David. “Or we could show him he’s wrong,” he offers.

“Oh,” David really hadn’t seen the conversation leading there. “Yeah, I guess we could do that.”

“Only, it might seem obvious if the first time we kiss is in front of them,” Patrick adds. “First kisses are always awkward.”

“That’s true,” David says immediately. It feels like a thin excuse, like maybe Patrick actually wants to kiss him. That can’t be the case, but it’s the reason David’s going along with it. He decides to push it a little further. “We should probably practice. For authenticity’s sake, of course.” His heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s suddenly very aware of Patrick’s eyes flickering down to his lips.

“Of course,” Patrick agrees, his voice barely above a whisper. God, he does want this, doesn’t he? David can’t wait any longer. He slips his hand around the back of Patrick’s neck, and then Patrick meets his lips in a soft kiss.

It’s the perfect first kiss, sweet and gentle without the expectation of more. It’s the exact kind of kiss David would’ve expected from Patrick if he had thought about it. Okay, when he’d thought about it.

David doesn’t think he’s ever had a first kiss like this before. He’s used to frantic kisses, kisses that aren’t anything more than a precursor to sex. Somehow, kissing Patrick is enough all on its own. David feels like he could sink into this moment and never leave. He wants to engrain it into his brain so he never forgets that there was a moment when it felt like someone actually wanted him.

Patrick pulls back from the kiss and their eyes meet. Patrick looks as flustered as David feels, but there’s also a tenderness in his eyes that forces David to look away. He suddenly feels entirely too exposed, as if Patrick can look into his eyes and read everything that kiss had meant to him.

“I think you and I might have different definitions of awkward,” David says because if he doesn’t break this moment he thinks he might fall apart. This is starting to feel so real that he can’t separate it in his head.

“Maybe it’s second kisses that are the awkward ones?”

David knows he needs to stop this. The more he takes, the more he pretends with Patrick, the more it’s going to destroy him when this is over. But David’s an expert in self-sabotage, so he doesn’t make another joke and back away. He takes a step forward, and Patrick’s forced to walk back until he hits the counter.

David’s hand slips down, resting right above Patrick’s ass, and then they’re kissing again. Patrick starts softly, but David’s emotions can’t handle that anymore. He parts his lips, lightly sucking on Patrick’s bottom lip to test the waters. Patrick’s hand moves up David’s back, and then his tongue flicks out to trace against the seam of David’s lips. When David opens for him, Patrick turns the kiss filthy, his hand sliding into David’s hair and tugging on it. David’s not too far gone to not worry about having to fix his hair after this, but he ignores it for the jolt the slight pain sends to his cock. He presses his hips forward, and neither of them is hard yet but it’s not going to take much more. He lets his hand dip a little lower, and when he squeezes his ass, Patrick moans into his mouth. It’s the same beautiful noise David heard this morning, and—

Somewhere behind them, there’s the sound of the door opening. Clint and Marcy’s voices drift into the kitchen from the hall, and they’ll only have a few moments before they’re caught. David tries to pull back in time, but there’s no question of what they were doing when Patrick’s parents walk into the kitchen.

“I see you finished with the dishes,” Marcy says with a teasing grin, and Patrick lets out an embarrassed groan.

“This isn’t the worst thing we’ve walked in on,” Clint says, and David can tell from the look on his face that another hilarious story from Patrick’s childhood is coming.

“I don’t think—” Patrick tries to protest, but David’s already shaking his head.

“Sorry, honey, but I think I have to hear this,” David grins. Patrick’s pout is adorable, and David can’t resist leaning his head in for a quick kiss. If Patrick asks, David will say that he wanted to make sure Clint knew there wasn’t anything to be worried about.

* * *

David is not a fan of large groups of people. He’s not a fan of small groups of people most of the time either, but his patience for large groups is even more limited. When Patrick tells him that a bunch of his friends found out he was back in town and want to have a get-together, every part of him wants to refuse to go. The problem is that it’s more than a simple reunion. This is Patrick’s opportunity to come out, and David doesn’t want to take that away from him.

“So when you said a bunch of your friends,” David asks on the drive over, “What did that mean, exactly?”

“Well, probably about a dozen of the people I went to school with,” Patrick says. “And then if my cousins come, a dozen more. Plus a handful of people I don’t know who decided to show up when they heard there would be beer.”

“Please tell me there will also be food.”

“Yes, David, there will be food,” Patrick says with an amused smile. “Have you never gone to a tailgate party before?”

“Yeah, that would be a hard no,” David tells him. “My preferred environment is indoors.”

“Well, you’re missing out,” Patrick says as he parks the car. He shuts off the engine, but he doesn’t make any move to get out.

“Are you nervous?” David asks. There’s not as much riding on this as there was on telling his parents, but with the number of people involved, David knows there’s always a chance things could go south. He’s not sure that tailgate parties are known for being particularly progressive.

“A little,” Patrick admits, dragging his hands over his thighs. “I know it’s going to be fine, and Rachel already knows, but it still feels big, you know?”

“It is big,” David says. He reaches over, setting his hand on top of Patrick’s to still his nervous fidgeting. “But I’ll be here with you. You’ll protect me from moths, and I’ll protect you from… I don’t know, drunk frat boys? What’s the scene here?”

“Not drunk frat boys,” Patrick laughs. “I mean, we all played sports, but it was never like that.”

“That’s what they always say.”

Patrick rolls his eyes, reaching for his door. There’s a field full of people, and what looks like a bonfire a little ways away. A bonfire suggests marshmallows, and that might make up for the fact that this is the second time David has been forced to eat outside today.

“Patrick’s here!” someone calls out, and the next thing David knows, a small, redheaded woman in scrubs is running towards them.

“I still can’t believe you made it,” she says, throwing her arms around Patrick. David takes a step back, giving the two of them some space.

“I told you I’d do everything I could to get here,” Patrick says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Where’s Stevie?”

“She found a couple of joints at the motel, so she’s been lying on top of that picnic table for the last half hour.”

David perks up at that, quickly locating the picnic table in question. There’s a woman in flannel stretched out on top of it, staring up at the sky. He’s going to do the best he can to charm her into sharing. Weed is even better than marshmallows when it comes to soothing David’s nerves at social events.

He’s so distracted by his new plan that he almost doesn’t hear when the conversation shifts to him.

“You’re David, aren’t you? Patrick mentioned you’d be joining us,” the woman says, looking over at him with narrowing eyes.

“I am,” David says hesitantly.

“David, this is Rachel,” Patrick says. David’s eyes widen a little at the name. So this is the ex. Had he known she and Patrick were such good friends? It’s unsurprising, honestly. Patrick seems like the kind of obnoxiously decent guy that would stay friends with all of his exes.

“It’s nice to meet you,” David says, but Rachel only frowns in response. Is this a jealousy thing? He turns to Patrick, but his attention has been stolen as another of his friends comes up to him.

“Hey, David, come meet my cousin Jordan,” Patrick calls out. David gives Rachel an awkward nod, glad for the excuse to walk away.

When David reaches Patrick’s side, Patrick slips an arm around him. “So, uh. This is David,” Patrick starts. “My fiancé.”

“Holy shit!” Jordan exclaims. “Since when?”

“We’ve been together for about two years,” Patrick tells him.

“That’s awesome, man,” Jordan says, reaching out to shake David’s hand. “So you’re… bi?” he asks, looking back over at Patrick.

“Uh, no,” Patrick says with a sheepish smile. “It took me a while to figure it out, but I’m gay.”

Jordan nods, taking a sip of his beer. “How’d you figure it out?”

David glances over at Patrick’s face, ready to step in if he looks uncomfortable at the question. It’s not necessarily an inappropriate question, but it’s personal enough that Patrick might not want to answer.

“I met David,” Patrick says without the slightest hesitation. “That was enough to have me questioning a lot of things I’d assumed about myself.”

Jordan laughs and the conversation moves on, but David’s mind is stuck on that answer. It’s obviously not true—it couldn’t be, could it? Patrick was only trying to make their story seem convincing. But there was a chance, however small, that Patrick hadn’t been lying, and that’s enough to preoccupy him as Patrick introduces him to person after person.

The same conversation happens again and again as Patrick makes his way through the crowd. Patrick’s nerves seem to dissipate as they go until it becomes less of a formal introduction and more of a ‘and I brought my fiancé, David,’ before they go back to reminiscing about sports or musical theatre or a handful of other things that David hadn’t known Patrick was interested in. One man spends twenty minutes talking about Patrick playing guitar at open mic nights, and that’s a side of Patrick David did not need to know about.

“Do you want me to get you a beer?” David asks. It’s only been an hour or so, but David already needs an excuse to get away from everyone for a moment.

“Sure,” Patrick says, slipping his arm from where it’s been resting on David’s waist for most of the night. “Thanks, babe.”

It takes everything in him not to glare at Patrick and his knowing grin.

David slips away from the crowd. The beer is shit, so he doesn’t bother getting himself his own. He manages to find a chocolate bar leftover from s’mores, but all of the marshmallows are already gone. That doesn’t do much to help his mood.

As he’s walking back, he sees Rachel standing with Patrick again. They’re close together, talking fervently in a way that makes David nervous. He lingers back, and it’s dark enough that they don’t notice him right away.

“—not actually engaged.” David only picks up on the end of her sentence, but it’s enough to make him freeze. He glances around quickly, only relaxing slightly when he’s sure no one overheard. “And I don’t care about the fake engagement, but I’ve got a lot of fucking questions about who you’re choosing to be fake married to.”

“It’s complicated,” Patrick says. “And I promise that I was going to tell you about it, but I didn’t want to say it over the phone. I don’t think this is the right place for me to get into it either.”

“I don’t need the whole story,” Rachel says with a wave of her hand. “But I do want to know how you went from telling me that your asshole boss wasn’t letting you come up here to showing up with him on your arm.”

David’s been called much worse than an asshole, but knowing that Patrick had said it stings. He takes a long sip of Patrick’s shitty beer and then another in hopes that it will help. It doesn’t.

“—how you go from hating him for two years to—” Rachel is saying, and David can’t handle it anymore. He turns on his heel, dropping Patrick’s beer onto a bench and heading straight to the picnic table.

“Hey,” he says to the woman lying down. “I heard you had weed.”

“Who the fuck are you?” she asks him. “And why should I give you my weed?”

“David,” he says with no other explanation. “I’ve got money. How much?”

“Before you pull out your wallet, you should know that this is very shitty weed that I found underneath a bed in the motel next to someone’s old socks.”

“And you smoked it anyway?” David asks, completely horrified.

“Yup,” she grins. She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a joint and handing it over. “It’s free if I get to see you make that face again while you smoke it.”

“You can fuck right off,” David says. It takes him a moment to decide if taking it from her is worth the potential diseases, but ultimately he reaches out.

She grabs a lighter off the table, tossing it over to him.

“You know, if you use hemp wick, it’s a lot easier on your lungs,” he tells her. Once it’s lit he tosses the lighter back, missing the table completely.

“I tell you that I found that underneath a bed next to dirty socks, and you think I’ve got hemp wick laying around?” she deadpans.

“Can we stop mentioning the dirty socks?” David takes a long drag, sitting down on the bench and leaning back against the table so that he won’t exhale into her face. Maybe it’s the weed, but so far she’s the best person David’s met here. He offers the joint back to her, and she sits up a little to take a hit. Unlike David, she doesn’t seem to have any problem with blowing smoke straight into his face.

“You’re kind of a dick, aren’t you?” he asks with a grin as he takes the joint back.

“A dick who gave you free weed.”

It takes him a while to remember that he hasn’t asked for her name. Someone had said it earlier, but David hasn’t remembered a single name he’d heard tonight apart from Rachel’s.

“So who’re you?” he asks.

“Stevie. I’m only here ‘cause my fiancée dragged me out.”

“Same, surprisingly,” David says with a dry laugh. “And then he spent the whole night talking about what an asshole I am to his ex.”

“Ooh, who’s his ex?” Stevie asks, her eyes gleaming at the potential gossip. “And follow up question, are you an asshole? You kind of seem like an asshole.”

David sighs. He’s getting to the point in his high where he gets a little too introspective, a little too stuck in his head. His sense of time is gone, so he’s not sure how long it takes him to answer. It feels like eons.

“I was an asshole to him,” he says. “It was before I got to know him like I do now. But can you ever really make up for that?”

“Blowjobs?” Stevie suggests, and David barks out a laugh.

“Yeah, that might work,” he agrees.

“You didn’t answer my first question,” Stevie says after a long enough pause that David has to fight to remember what they were talking about. When he doesn’t respond, Stevie takes the joint away from him. “The ex, who’s the bitch ex?”

“I didn’t say she was a bitch,” David says, pouting at the loss. “She can’t be if she dated Patrick.”

Stevie shoots up at that, nearly falling off of the table. David tries to reach out for her, but then he actually does fall off of the table. “Fuck!” he exclaims, frantically trying to brush any dirt off that might have touched his clothes.

“You’re marrying Patrick?” Stevie asks.

“How do you know Patrick?” David asks once he’s given up on fixing the damage to his clothes. He gets back on the table, lying down next to her.

He’s never seen so many stars in his life, probably because he makes a point of not spending time in the middle of fucking nowhere. It’s enough of a distraction that Stevie has to repeat herself a few times before David finally pays attention to what she’s saying.

“He’s my fiancée’s ex,” Stevie says, propping herself up on her elbows. “Speaking of, they’re coming over right now.”

David turns his head, letting out a groan when he sees Patrick and Rachel heading over in their direction. “Tell them I’m dead,” he says, closing his eyes. “Your shitty motel weed killed me.”

“Hey, Patrick!” Stevie calls out, loud enough that David jerks his head away. “David says he misses you!”

“Mm, I knew it,” David hums. “You’re a dick.”

“Guilty as charged,” she says, nudging him hard enough that David almost falls off of the table again. He can hear by their footsteps that Patrick and Rachel have made it over to them, but David doesn’t open his eyes.

“Did you charm Stevie into giving you weed?” Patrick asks with a chuckle in his voice. It’s the same teasing voice he’s used since this whole thing started, but right now it’s rubbing David the wrong way. David grits his teeth, holding his words back. He’s not going to lash out at Patrick in front of Rachel—not when she already hates him.

“I don’t know that anything about that is charming,” Stevie deadpans. “I think I just felt sorry for him.”

“Be nice,” Rachel scolds her, and she sounds like she might actually mean it. That’s surprising enough to make David open his eyes.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Patrick teases, reaching down to help him sit up. David starts to pull away, but when he wobbles a little he resigns himself to taking the help. “I see you got lost on your way to the beer.”

“The beer was even shittier than Stevie’s weed,” David says. “I was doing you a favour.”

“Forgetting my beer and smoking Stevie’s weed. You’re full of favours tonight, David.” Patrick helps him get up off the table, and David finds himself leaning against Patrick’s chest despite everything.

“It was nice to meet you, David,” Rachel says. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you a little better at my party tomorrow night.”

“Um, so am I,” David agrees. He doesn’t have any idea what party she’s talking about, nor does he understand why she’s lost some of the suspicion in her eyes. Maybe he’s too high to see it anymore.

“Did you and Stevie have a good time?” Patrick asks as they walk back to his car. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’d get along. She’s a little rough around the edges too.”

Normally that sort of comment wouldn’t set David on edge, but he’s feeling a little too raw to appreciate Patrick’s teasing at the moment. His only response is a shrug, and they drive home in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

David is quiet on the drive home. Whenever Patrick glances over at him, he’s staring broodingly out the window. Patrick has never actually seen David high before, so he figures it’s the result of getting a little too high. 

The night had gone so well. He hadn’t thought any of his friends would mind, but anxiety doesn’t listen to reason. Once he got past the initial hurdle of coming out, he was able to relax and enjoy spending time with friends he hadn’t seen in years. 

There were only a few bumps in the otherwise perfect night. Patrick got shit for spending too much time away, which he had expected. He’d had to tell Rachel the truth immediately because there was no way she’d believe that he’d been secretly dating David this whole time. Her reaction was the only negative one. She’d heard enough stories about David to be wary in normal circumstances, and once she found out about the green card wedding she was especially skeptical. She tried to talk him out of it, tried to emphasize how severe the consequences would be if they got caught. 

Patrick had thought about that too, of course, but it hadn’t been enough to dissuade him. His main motivation might have started out as the gallery, but at the core of it, he was beginning to realize that wanting to stay at the gallery might be more about wanting to stay with David than the job itself. He’d done his best to explain that, and something he’d said must have stuck because Rachel had backed down. 

“Damn, Brewer,” she’d said. “You’re really gone over this guy.” 

Patrick hadn’t denied it. 

The only other irritating thing was how many times he’d been told that David was out of his league. He hadn’t been bothered by his mother saying it, but after hearing it again and again from his friends it started to weigh on him. If they were actually together Patrick wouldn’t have minded, but as it was the comment only served as a reminder of what he couldn’t have.

Although, after that morning… 

He’d never planned on telling David about his uncomfortable conversation with his father. He had worried that if he did, David would think he was making it up for an excuse to take this charade a little farther. Especially if David had heard him in the shower, which Patrick still wasn’t sure about. Then David had pulled the words out of him, and Patrick jumped in headfirst without even the briefest risk-benefit analysis. 

David was only the third man he’d kissed, so maybe it didn’t mean much to say that their kiss was the best that Patrick had ever had. Even still, Patrick couldn’t imagine that it could get any better than that. After that second kiss, Patrick had started to let himself hope that maybe this thing wasn’t one-sided. David was attracted to him, and that was a start. If the night before meant anything, he was also starting to trust Patrick a little more. That meant something, didn’t it? 

If David’s immigration status weren’t hanging in the balance, Patrick wouldn’t have any problem asking David out. As it is, Patrick’s not sure that he can. David’s dependent on Patrick for his green card, and that might make him feel like he can’t say no. So many people in David’s life have taken advantage of him. Patrick won’t add to that. But if David made the first move, maybe that would be okay. He just needs to wait it out.

When they get home, Patrick’s parents are already asleep. They make their way to the basement quietly, and David goes straight to the bathroom. It’s the second time he’s showered today, but given David’s dedication to skincare Patrick doesn’t think much of it. He goes to the bathroom upstairs to get ready for bed, and he’s fast asleep well before David comes back out.

He wakes up slowly, his head foggy with sleep. He’s snuggled up against his pillow, and his cock feels amazing where it’s pressed against something warm and inviting. He lets out a sigh, rocking forward in search of more. The slow drag of his cock is tantalizing, and Patrick’s half-asleep brain still isn’t present enough to realize what he’s doing. 

Then the source of his pleasure lets out a broken moan, and Patrick is startled awake. His eyes snap open, and the first thing he sees is David’s hair. Patrick’s chest is flush with David’s back, his cock still pressed against his ass. 

“Oh my god,” Patrick gasps, pulling away. “Oh my god, David, I’m so sorry.”

David’s only response is to press his ass back, his arm reaching to pull Patrick against him in invitation. Patrick doesn’t stop to think about whether this is a mistake. He presses his face against David’s shoulder, breathing out hotly as he starts rolling his hips purposefully against the curve of David’s ass. He can see David reach up to lick his hand, and then there are the tell-tale movements of David jerking himself off. 

Patrick wants more. He wants to reach over David’s hip and replace David’s hand. He wants to pull him onto his back so they can rock their cocks together until they come. He wants to sink his mouth on David’s cock and swallow everything David has to give him.

Their breathing starts to speed up, little gasps as they both get closer and closer. Patrick’s precome has leaked through two layers, but he’s too out of it to worry about ruining David’s clothes. “Fuck, David,” he whispers. He’s scared of wrecking the moment, but he can’t resist tilting his head up to suck a kiss onto David’s neck right underneath his jaw. Stubble stings his lips, and Patrick’s hips hitch out of their rhythm. Fuck, he’s already so close. David lets out another groan, low and vibrating through his chest, and Patrick’s done for. He bites down on David’s shoulder, one last sharp thrust against David until he’s shooting into his pyjama pants. 

He can feel David’s hand speeding up, and the slight movements of his ass are on the edge of too much as they brush against Patrick’s softening cock. Before Patrick can think about moving away, David lets out a breathy “Fuck,” and then he goes still. 

Right as Patrick is about to speak, David lurches up and out of bed, rushing over to the bathroom and leaving Patrick alone in his sticky pyjamas. Patrick rolls onto his back, trying not to let his thoughts spiral. He knows David cares about his clothes. Maybe he rushed to the bathroom because he needed to make sure nothing was stained. It doesn’t have to mean anything about Patrick, about regretting what they’d done. 

It’s a weak explanation, but it’s the one Patrick tells himself. He does his best to clean up without the bathroom, eventually giving up and sneaking upstairs to shower. He couldn’t be more grateful that his parents don’t run into him before he gets there. 

He wants to go straight back to David so that they can talk about what happened, but his Dad catches him on the way out of the bathroom. He gets pulled into the kitchen to help with breakfast, and by the time David gets out of the shower and comes upstairs, he’s lost any opportunity to talk to David in private. David acts like nothing has happened, but when Patrick wraps his arm around David’s waist, he doesn’t lean into it like he normally does. 

Once breakfast is over and his parents have headed off to work, Patrick tries to finally bring it up. 

“David,” he starts, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep himself from fidgeting with them. “About this morning—”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” David interrupts. “What’s the plan for today? Rachel mentioned seeing us last night.”

Patrick wants to push, wants to demand that they have a conversation. He knows that will only make David pull back further, so he sighs and accepts the change in subject. “Rachel and Stevie’s bachelorette party is tonight, and they invited us. It’s at a spa a couple of towns over.”

“Wait,” David says, crossing his arms over his chest. “When you said your best friend was getting married, that was Rachel?”

“Didn’t I tell you that?” Patrick asks with a frown. “I mean, you met them both last night.”

“You never said the name of your best friend,” David shrugs. “I probably should’ve picked up on it when I met Stevie and she mentioned her fiancée.”

“Probably, but you were pretty high last night,” Patrick teases. He’s desperate to get back to the comfortable place they’d reached before… before whatever it is that’s happened. David doesn’t respond, but Patrick pushes forward. “We don’t need to head to the spa until four, so we’ve got a few hours to kill. Want to get out of the house for a bit? I could give you the grand tour of Schitt’s Creek.”

“As underwhelming as that sounds, I suppose it’s better than the alternative,” David says. 

What alternative, Patrick wonders. Being alone with him?

Patrick hadn’t expected David to say yes since having the day free is the perfect opportunity for both of them to get some work done. What does it mean that Patrick hasn’t thought about work while he’s been here? A week ago it was always at the front of his mind, but now it feels too far away to ever be a priority. Is David feeling that too? Patrick doesn’t ask, not willing to risk the mention of work convincing David to stay home. 

It’s a nice day for the walk into town, which is helpful given that his parents have both of the cars. Patrick fills the awkward silence as they walk by pointing out the homes of his childhood friends, most of which David had met the night before. David never does more than hum in response. 

They’re nearly at the cafe when David finally speaks. “What were you and Rachel talking about last night?” he asks without any context. 

“You, mostly,” Patrick says. There’s no point in lying, and maybe the truth will get over the funk that David seems to be in. “She knew right away it was fake. I’ve told her about all the men I’ve dated, so there’s no way I would’ve hid something like this.”

“Is she going to tell anyone?” David asks with a frown. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life,” he promises. “She was upset at first, but eventually she came around. It helped to see you and Stevie getting along.”

“Upset about the fake marriage or upset that it was to me?” David looks like he’s doing everything in his power to project nonchalance, but Patrick sees right through it. 

“Both,” Patrick admits. “She thinks it’s a bad idea, and she… The thing is, she’s my go-to when I need to rant after a frustrating day of work. And I’ve told her the good things too, but sometimes it’s hard for her to look past the bad. But we talked about it, and she came around.”

“One conversation and now she’s fine that you’re marrying your asshole boss?”

“She doesn’t think you’re an asshole,” he says, but David shoots him a glare before Patrick can finish. 

“I literally heard her say it.”

“Anymore. She doesn’t think you’re an asshole anymore.” Patrick can see David’s face shut down, the wall he’s built around himself coming back up. He hurries on. “She understands why I’m doing this. And sometimes, David, you kind of were an asshole. Case in point, almost making me miss Rachel’s wedding. But you being an asshole never changed how I felt about you.”

“That you, um. You care about me,” David says hesitantly. 

“Exactly,” Patrick says. He’s bursting with the desire to say more, to say that he thinks he’s had a crush on David since the day they met, to say that he’s desperate to see more of the side of David that he tries to hide from the world. He wants to tell him about how right their first kiss had made him feel. But he can’t say any of that. If David’s this overwhelmed about Patrick caring about him, he’s not going to react well to any grand declarations of—of whatever it is that Patrick feels for him. “Look, David, I’m sorry about what you overheard. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you for the last couple of days. I don’t want things to be weird between us.”

“They’re not,” David says. He rolls his shoulders, shaking out his arms as if he can physically shake off the tension between the two of them. “Fuck, please don’t tell me this is the busiest part of town,” he adds a moment later as they turn a corner. 

“Technically, this is downtown Schitt’s Creek,” Patrick teases. “The nightlife is incredible. Café Tropical is open until ten.”

“How quaint.” 

“Their cinnamon rolls are pretty good,” Patrick says, and suddenly David seems a lot more invested in downtown Schitt’s Creek. 

“What’s this?” David asks as they pass the general store.

“That’s the—'' Patrick does a double-take when he notices that it’s closed down. He walks forward to look through the windows. From the look of it, it’s been closed for a while. “It used to be the general store. I didn’t know it shut down. Brebner’s must have put them out of business. That’s a shame.”

“It’s a surprisingly nice space,” David says as he peers inside. “There’s a lot of natural light. With a little interior decorating, it could be a cute little bakery. Oh, or an ice cream parlour. I could see that too.”

“Are you sure you’re not saying that because you want ice cream?” Patrick asks, grinning when David glares back at him. 

They get to the cafe, and Patrick grins as David takes in the size of the menu. There are so many things in here that he probably deems incorrect, and David looks like he can’t decide where to start. 

“Patrick!” Twyla’s grin is huge when she comes over to take their orders. “I heard you were back in town, but I couldn’t make it out yesterday. My step-cousin’s car broke down in Elm Glenn, and I had to go bail him out before a cop stopped to help and realized he has a warrant.”

“It’s a shame you couldn’t make it,” Patrick says, grinning as David visibly reacts to Twyla’s story. “This is my fiancé, David. I got to introduce him to everybody last night. David, this is Twyla.”

“I heard about that too,” Twyla grinned. “Bob was in here this morning. It’s nice to meet you, David. How are you liking Schitt’s Creek?”

“And you,” David says. “It’s… It’s certainly unique.” 

“That’s what I always say,” Twyla grins. She takes their order, and David looks a little worried when he has to explain how to make his coffee step by step.

“What are the chances that she’s going to get that right?” he asks Patrick. 

“Oh, slim to none,” Patrick says, nudging David’s leg under the table. “But I think you’ll survive.”

“That’s still to be determined,” David says loftily. “I might need you to distract me so that I don’t make a scene.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Patrick replies in a mock-serious tone. “What form of distraction were you thinking?”

“Tell me about Rachel?” 

“What do you want to know?” Patrick had thought he’d covered everything when he’d told David about Rachel on the plane, but it seemed he’d left out some important details. It was hard to know where to start.

“So you broke up with Rachel and had your big gay revelation,” David says with a wave of his hand. “And now Rachel’s getting married to a woman. Were you both accidental beards for each other?”

“Ah, no. That’s the embarrassing part. See, Rachel and I broke up a lot, and during one of our off phases, she dated a woman. When we got back together she told me how she’d figured out she was bi, and I still didn’t consider that I could be anything other than straight.”

“That’s not embarrassing,” David says. “Everyone has their own journey. If you want embarrassing, how about drinking so much at Rihanna’s VMA after-party that you puke in her infinity pool? I did not get invited back.”

“Or what about the time you came to work so hungover that your sweater was on backwards?”

“Okay, that was a choice, and I will not be shamed by a man who wears mid-ranged denim and owns the same shirt in four different shades of blue.”

“I think I have one in green too if it matters.”

“How subversive.”

* * *

Rachel was right, and Patrick doesn’t have any problem getting a room when they arrive. David looks around the lobby discerningly, and Patrick knows it’s nothing compared to the places David frequents. 

Once they meet up with everyone else and someone outlines the rest of the night, David seems a lot less worried about the spa’s concerning lack of Yelp reviews. They’ve got group treatments lined up, and David explains what each of them is to Patrick as patiently as he can manage, which isn’t very patiently. 

Patrick isn’t a huge fan of all of the poking and prodding and being slathered with strange substances, but he likes having a chance to see Rachel and Stevie interacting. He’d been surprised when she’d told them they had started dating; on the surface, they seemed like total opposites. Rachel’s as extroverted as Patrick is, and Stevie tends to keep to herself. But watching them together now, Patrick thinks he understands. Stevie is softer with Rachel around, and Rachel’s snark is the perfect match for Stevie’s. 

The best part is the way Stevie looks at Rachel, hanging on her every word. Rachel has always deserved to have someone look at her like that. The way Patrick couldn’t.

The one thing he hadn’t thought about when Rachel mentioned the spa was the amount of David he’d end up seeing. Rachel’s booked them a private sauna, and soon Patrick’s sitting next to David in nothing but a towel. Patrick can barely follow the conversation, his gaze glued to a bead of sweat dripping down David’s pecs. There’s a mark on his shoulder from where Patrick had bitten him that morning, and Rachel’s smirk widens when she notices it. She shoots him a look, and Patrick knows there’s no way he’s getting out of the night without having to talk about it.

Looking at the mark he’d left on David’s glistening skin almost destroys him. Patrick has to look away when David throws his head back laughing at something Twyla had said. He needs to keep himself in check or he’s going to end up getting a boner in front of Rachel and her entire bridal party. 

“—in Malmö,” David is saying when Patrick’s finally in control enough to check back into the conversation. “And afterwards, you jumped into the Baltic. It was supposed to release endorphins or whatever, but it was just cold as fuck.”

David keeps them entertained with his wild stories, perfectly balanced on the line between being personable and being overbearing. It feels a little different than it does when Patrick watches David charm the patrons at the gallery. It feels like David’s invested in this too, like David’s enjoying this as much as everyone else. That’s new.

Sure enough, Rachel finds a way to get Patrick alone to talk. It’s clearly premeditated, since Stevie invites David to go get a hot stone massage with her at the same time that Rachel pulls him aside to dip his feet in some sort of wax.

“You’re not subtle,” Patrick says as he sits down next to Rachel. 

“Neither are you,” Rachel grins. “That hickey looked brand new. Someone had a good time last night.” 

“This morning,” Patrick corrects sheepishly. “But it wasn’t—it didn’t mean anything.”

“How do you know it didn’t mean anything?” Rachel asks. “Stevie says you were the only thing he talked about last night.”

Patrick perks up a little at that. He wants to ask about everything David said to Stevie, but he knows Rachel will make fun of him if he does. “He ran away as soon as it was over, and when I tried to bring it up later, he changed the subject.”

“What is it with boys and refusing to talk about their feelings?” Rachel snarks. “You’re both willing to marry each other, but you can’t have an actual conversation about your feelings.”

“That’s different,” Patrick protests, but he does have to laugh about how ridiculous this all is. “I… I’m going to talk to him about everything. I just worry that if I try to start something, David will feel like he can’t say no.”

“Who started things this morning?”

“Well, David, but—”

“I don’t think you need to worry about David feeling like he can’t say no,” Rachel says with an amused expression. “He doesn’t seem like he’ll want to say no.”

“Wanting sex is different from wanting a relationship.”

“I’ll give you that since you’re certainly an expert on wanting a relationship but not sex,” Rachel says with a teasing grin. There was a time when a joke like that would’ve been too painful for either of them to make, but now they’re both laughing. 

Patrick somehow manages to shift the conversation away from David, and they spend some time catching up. Every now and again he wonders what Stevie and David might be talking about, but he tries to put it out of his mind. He hasn’t seen Rachel in ages, and he wants to enjoy this time together.

* * *

There’s a restaurant at the spa, but Stevie and Rachel decide they’d rather order pizza to the rooms. So everyone piles into Stevie and Rachel’s room, all squished on the same bed as they eat. 

“I’m loving the bathtub in the middle of the room,” Patrick teases Rachel. “Are you two going to break it in tonight?”

“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” Stevie asks, and everyone laughs. 

Patrick’s sitting in David’s lap, his arms wrapped around his waist. It’s the most they’ve touched since getting off together this morning. Rachel and Stevie know the truth, but no one else does, so they’re still playing around. Rachel’s enjoying that, constantly finding ways to tease them or try to make them slip up. It was one of her comments that led to Patrick climbing into David’s lap, though, so he guesses he can’t complain.

“Okay, now that we’re all bloated, who wants to go check out the hot tub downstairs?” Rachel asks when the last of the pizza is gone. It’s a resounding yes, and everyone starts getting up to go back to their rooms to change. 

“You coming?” Stevie asks when Patrick doesn’t get up right away. 

“We didn’t bring swimsuits,” he shrugs. “We’ll probably go back to our room and watch some TV. It’s getting late, anyway.”

“Okay, grandpa,” Stevie deadpans. “Or you could wear your underwear. We’ve got it to ourselves, so it doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t think—” David starts to protest, but Stevie’s got a wicked grin on her face. She knows exactly what she’s doing. 

“Rachel wants to spend time with you,” Stevie tells Patrick, purposefully laying on the guilt. “And after tomorrow, who knows when she’ll see you again.”

“Fine, we’ll go,” Patrick says. “David, is that okay?”

“So the thing is, my underwear is actually very expensive?” David says with an emphatic gesture. “And chlorine is not part of its care instructions, so I think I might need to sit this one out.”

Patrick’s a little disappointed that he’s lost his opportunity to see David in tight, wet underwear. But maybe it’s a good thing because that might be even more distracting than the sauna had been. He can only take so much.

“Borrow some of Patrick’s,” Rachel calls out. “Go back to your room and meet us there.”

David tries to protest, but they’re gone before he can get very far.

“You don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable,” Patrick says as they walk back to their room. “They’re trying to fuck with me. They won’t care if you want to stay back.”

“Mm, no. I do want to go. I’m weighing my options. On one hand, these are Versace,” David says, rubbing over his hip through his robe. “On the other, I’m a little concerned about what borrowing your five dollar multi-pack boxers might do to my skin.”

“They were actually nine dollars,” Patrick tells him, and David shudders. 

“I can always buy new underwear. Let’s go.”

When they get to the hot tub, everyone’s already in. There’s a big sign that says that alcohol is prohibited, but there are several open bottles of wine at the edge of that water. 

“We’re using plastic cups. It’s fine,” Rachel says when she sees Patrick looking. “Live a little.”

“Yeah, Patrick,” David teases. “Live a little.”

“Okay, okay,” Patrick gives in. He goes to pour them each a glass, but he almost drops the bottle when David takes off his robe. 

There are only a few seconds between when David hangs up his robe and when he gets into the tub, but Patrick’s eyes are on him for every one of them. David’s wearing skin-tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination, and they’re _white_. The thought of seeing David’s cock underneath translucent wet fabric makes Patrick twitch in his boxers. He needs to get into the water with his dick hidden under the bubbles as soon as possible, or things are going to get very awkward. He brings David his wine, letting him hold both cups as Patrick tosses his robe to the side and slips in.

“This is nice,” David hums, and his voice is low and rumbly in a way that reminds Patrick of how he’d sounded this morning. Thank god for the jets. David hands over Patrick’s drink, and then he pulls him close to his side, slipping his arm around him. Twyla’s in the middle of a complicated story involving her cousin getting stabbed in the middle of a game of Catan, and that helps calm Patrick down. It’s a fight, though, because David’s thumb keeps rubbing over Patrick’s shoulder. Each brush sends sparks shooting down towards his dick, and his nipples are hard despite the heat rising up from the water. 

“So David,” Rachel says during a lull in the conversation, “I’ve heard all about how Patrick fell in love with you. What’s your story? When did you know he was the one?”

Patrick wants to glare at Rachel, but that would give them away. He desperately wants to hear David’s answer, wants to analyze every word he said so he could decide if there was any truth to it.

“I thought he was hot from the day we met,” David starts. He takes a sip of wine, and Patrick wonders if it’s to give him time to think or because he needs the courage. “And I’ve got a little bit of a competence kink, so seeing him in action kind of did it for me.”

“You hated my clothes, though,” Patrick says.

“Hmm, is hate a strong enough word?” Everyone laughs, and then Rachel prompts David to go on. “But the other effect of that competence was that it made me feel insecure, so I pushed away any feelings I might’ve had. I didn’t talk to Patrick about anything but work, and even then I wasn’t very… pleasant.”

“Little bit of an understatement there, David, but go on.”

“Fuck off,” David tells Patrick. The hand hanging over his shoulder slides slightly to the left, and David gives Patrick’s nipple a sharp pinch. It’s over in an instant, David’s hand back where it was as if he’d never moved it. Patrick’s cock goes from mildly interested to throbbingly hard in an instant. “As I was saying, we didn’t get along much at first. Um, and then my birthday came around, and I was in a horrible mood because my family had forgotten. And I guess Patrick found out about it because when I came back from lunch there was a cupcake on my desk. That was the moment I knew.”

Patrick can’t hold back his sharp intake of breath. That had only been a few months after Patrick had been hired. David’s never even mentioned it before; he hadn’t bothered to thank Patrick for the cupcake when it happened. Patrick pulls away from David’s arm so that he can look at his face, needing to know how much of that David had meant. “You’ve never told me that before, David.” 

“Well. It’s embarrassing, so.” David tries to deflect, but Patrick can see it in his eyes. Something settles in his chest, and all of the fear and questioning he’s been feeling the last few days starts to fade away. They’re going to make this happen, one way or the other. No matter how much David tries to ignore it, there’s something there between them. There has been since the beginning.

“Anyway!” David says loudly, cutting off the comments about how sweet the story was. “I’ve never heard your story, Rachel.”

“That’s a fun one,” Rachel’s sister, Bethany, grins. “Rachel didn’t realize they were dating until two weeks into it.”

“I thought we were dating!” Rachel protests, her face flushing red. Stevie laughs, turning her head to kiss Rachel’s neck before resting it back on her shoulder. “I wasn’t entirely sure, but I thought we were.”

“You got there eventually,” Stevie says in a voice Patrick’s only ever heard her use for Rachel. “In her defence, she thought I was trying to be nice since her fiancé had dumped her and then fled the country.”

Now it’s Patrick’s turn to protest. “That’s not exactly what happened—”

“I knew it was coming,” Rachel tells David. “Things had been bad for the last few years. We thought getting married would solve it, but that was fucking stupid. By the end, I knew it was only a matter of time. It was more a question of who would give up pretending first. If Patrick hadn’t done it, I’m sure I would have a month or two later.”

“Is that why it was so easy for you to stay friends?” David asked. “I can’t imagine being friends with any of my exes.”

“Your exes are all douchebags,” Patrick cuts in before Rachel can answer.

“Mina wasn’t a douchebag.”

“You’re right. You were the douchebag there,” Patrick says, and everyone laughs. 

“What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” Rachel says with a mock glare at Patrick, “was that it wasn’t easy for us to stay friends. The first few months that we were broken up before Patrick left were awful. It’s hard to avoid someone in a town this small. Once he left, though, it got easier.”

“Patrick’s a lot more bearable in small doses,” Stevie says. “Or at least, so I’ve heard.”

“I can see that,” David teases. When Patrick pouts at him, David pulls him into his lap, cuddling him close in apology. Any response Patrick might have had disappears at the feeling of David’s wet skin against his back. He can feel the point of his nipples, the soft hair across his chest. When he shifts a little, he can feel David’s dick against his ass. It’s not hard yet, and Patrick wonders how much he’d have to squirm to change that. Fuck, he feels so good. 

The conversation continues on around him, but Patrick can’t follow it. He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against David’s prickly jaw. “Do you want to go back to the room?” he whispers, hoping the jets will drown out the words for everyone but David.

David’s eyes burn into his. His arm comes up to Patrick’s head, angling him so that he can press their lips together. Patrick is about to deepen the kiss when they’re hit with a splash from the other side of the tub. 

“You have a room. Go use it,” Rachel says. 

“If you insist,” David says with a little shimmy. He climbs out of the tub, and Patrick sees that he was right. Those briefs don’t hide anything when they’re wet. His mouth waters. Rachel lets out a wolf whistle. 

“This relationship suddenly makes a lot more sense,” she teases, and Patrick’s face flushes hot. The embarrassment of everyone laughing is enough to get his dick down enough to be able to get out of the water. 

Once they’re in the hallway, David spins towards Patrick. His hands come up to cup Patrick’s face, and then they’re kissing. David pushes Patrick against the wall, rocking their hips together in a promise of what’s to come.

“Fuck, David,” Patrick gasps as David sucks a bruising kiss on his shoulder. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I think I might have some idea,” David grins, reaching down to squeeze Patrick’s dick through the opening of his robe.

“We need to get back to the room right fucking now, or I’m going to suck you off right here in the hallway,” Patrick says, rocking into David’s hand. 

David slides his thumb over Patrick’s lips, moaning when Patrick sucks on the tip. He leans forward, biting down on the swell of Patrick’s lower lip, and then he takes Patrick’s hand and yanks him towards the elevator.


	6. Chapter 6

They burst into their room, and then David’s shoving Patrick up against the door. He gets a hand between them as they kiss, pulling on the belt of Patrick’s robe until the knot comes undone. He doesn’t break the kiss as he slides the robe off of his shoulders, licking into Patrick’s hot mouth. He’s throbbing in his soaked underwear at the thought of what that mouth is going to feel like on his cock.

“You too,” Patrick says. He already sounds completely wrecked. It’s reminiscent of that morning, but this time David can actually see his face when he moans. He gets his robe off and tosses it behind him, and Patrick lets out a wanton sound. “Jesus Christ, David. The way you look in those should be illegal.”

“I didn’t think about the repercussions of wearing white,” David says. It’s a complete lie. A part of him had hoped that this would be the reaction the wet briefs got. A large, throbbing part of him. 

“I need my mouth on you,” Patrick whines. He kisses David’s shoulder first, laving over a new bruise with his tongue. David wants more, wants to be covered with marks that show how much Patrick wants him. He wants proof that this happened, so that when he wakes up tomorrow and convinces himself of all the reasons why Patrick doesn’t actually want this he’ll have clear evidence that he’s wrong. 

Patrick trails kisses down David’s chest, stopping to bite at David’s nipples in a way that makes David cry out. He’s toeing the line of pleasure and pain so perfectly and suddenly David can’t wait any longer. He grabs Patrick’s shoulder, pressing him down to his knees. “Please,” he gasps, his fingers clenching on Patrick’s shoulder when his breath ghosts over his cock. 

“Gorgeous,” Patrick says, and it’s so quiet that David doesn’t know if he was supposed to hear it. He doesn’t care. His entire world has narrowed to Patrick’s mouth as he starts pressing kisses over David’s cock. Once David’s shaking, sure that he can’t handle it anymore, Patrick pulls down David’s underwear. They’re wet enough that they drag against his skin, sticking a little as they go. His cock springs free, and Patrick leaves David’s underwear rolled up on his thighs so that he can lick the bead of precome off the head. 

David reaches for Patrick’s hair instinctively, but it’s too short to get a real grip on it. Instead, his nails drag against Patrick’s scalp, and Patrick moans loudly. David can work with that. He drags them down again, and then Patrick swallows down his cock.

David’s received thousands of blowjobs in his life, but it’s never felt like this before. He’s never had someone looking up at him with loud eyes that screamed something that felt like adoration. Patrick sucks David’s cock like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, like he could stay there on his knees all night. His hand comes up to tease David’s balls, and David lets out a loud gasp. There’s no risk of waking up parents tonight, no reason not to let out everything he feels. 

“Patrick, fuck,” he gasps. His fingers slide down to Patrick’s neck, doing everything he can not to grab Patrick and sink him down further on his cock. “You’re so good at this, making me feel so good.”

Patrick moans around David’s cock at the praise, and that feels so good that it takes David a moment to realize Patrick’s hand is reaching down to jerk himself off. 

“Wait, no,” David says, his hips twitching forward at the stunning view of Patrick’s cock slipping through his fist. “Don’t. I want to.”

Patrick pulls off of David’s cock, resting his head against his hip and panting. His warm breath teases over David’s cock, and David reaches down to give himself a stroke. 

“I wish we had condoms,” Patrick says, his voice already rough from David’s cock. 

“Mm, and what would you want to do with them if we did?” 

Patrick’s eyes are glued to David’s cock, watching as his thumb slides over the head. David pulls his thumb back, and Patrick darts out to lick the string of precome before it breaks. He gives David a quick, hard suck, and then he moves back to give his answer.

“You have no idea how much I want your cock in me,” Patrick says. David’s hips jerk forward without meaning too, and the wet head of his cock drags against Patrick’s cheek. “Fuck, David,” Patrick says, sliding his face against David’s cock. “Want you to fuck me, want everything with you.”

“You can have it,” David gasps. 

“As soon as we get back home,” Patrick promises, and then he sinks back down on David’s cock. His tongue is sliding against the sensitive ridge of his head, spit and precome dripping down Patrick’s chin as he moves. He looks wrecked, flushed down his chest and eyes that look nearly black. And the implication that Patrick wants more of this—wants more of _him_ —when they’re back in New York is enough to make David’s toes curl against the very incorrect carpet. 

“Wait,” David pulls Patrick off of his cock, tugging him back on his feet. “I don’t want to come yet,” he says. He drags Patrick into another heated kiss, licking the taste of himself out of his mouth. He can feel Patrick’s cock dragging against his thigh, leaving a slick trail of precome that David desperately wants to taste. He shoves off his briefs, leaving them in a wet bunch on the carpet. They’re already ruined anyway.

“How do you want me?” 

“On the bed,” David says. He steps away for a moment, frantically digging through his bag in search of lube. He hadn’t expected to have sex on this trip, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t planned on getting off. “On your side,” he says as he climbs onto the bed. “I want to fuck those beautiful thighs.”

Patrick moans at that, and David watches as his hips buck forward against nothing but empty air. “Please, David,” he chokes out. “I want to feel you.”

David curls around Patrick’s back, a perfect reversal of how their morning had started. He sucks kisses onto Patrick’s neck while he flips open the lube, pouring a generous amount into his hand. He takes his time slicking up Patrick’s thighs, letting his knuckles drag against his balls, his fingertip brush against his rim. Patrick pushes himself back against David, and the friction on his cock is incredible. He gets a little more lube and then tosses the bottle across the bed, uncaring of where it lands. 

Patrick’s cock is red from lack of attention. He’s dripping precome, the head of his cock peeking out from his foreskin. “You’re so fucking sexy,” David says, his breath hot against Patrick’s neck. When he finally takes Patrick in his hand, the moan that explodes out of him is enough for David to know this isn’t going to last long. He gets his cock lined up and then rocks forward, sliding through the tight, wet heat of Patrick’s thighs. He lets his hand follow the rhythm of his hips, sliding his thumb over the head with each stroke. 

Patrick’s cries have turned into a constant stream of “ _fuck_ , _fuck_ , _fuck_ ” interspersed with David’s name and moaned pleas for more. He’s shaking in David’s arms, desperate for anything David’s willing to give him. David’s hips speed up, gasping as his cock drags against the crease of Patrick’s ass. 

“Imagine how good this will feel when I’m actually inside you,” David says, biting over Patrick’s shoulder in the same place Patrick had done to him that morning. “I’m going to make it so good for you.”

Patrick’s head falls back, his mouth falling open in a wordless cry as he starts to come. David strokes him through it, groaning as he watches come splash against Patrick’s stomach. His thrusts get faster, fucking into Patrick’s thighs as hard as he can, and then he’s coming all over the soft skin of Patrick’s thighs. 

They stay curled together for a moment afterwards, chests heaving as they try to catch their breath. 

“We should’ve started doing that ages ago,” Patrick says, going limp in David’s arms. 

“The gallery would’ve shut down because we were spending every free moment going at it like rabbits.”

“Worth it,” Patrick laughs.

“Mm, not sure if I like hearing my business guy saying that.” He presses a soft kiss to Patrick’s neck, and then he rolls onto his back. “Go get us a washcloth to clean up?”

“Mmph,” Patrick says against the mattress. “Can’t move.”

“And yet I did all the work,” David says, slapping Patrick’s ass as he gets up. David grins at Patrick’s reaction; he’ll have to remember that the next time they do this. If they do this again, that is. 

Once they’re cleaned up, Patrick pulls David against his chest, snuggling close. “Don’t have to pretend I don’t want to do this anymore,” he says, sighing happily. 

Patrick’s asleep before David can figure out how to answer.

* * *

A shrill ring jolts him awake. David looks around blearily, needing a moment to identify the sound. Patrick’s head pops up, mumbling at David to turn it off. 

“Fuck!” David frantically reaches for his phone. He keeps it on silent at night. It’ll only ring if someone calls three times in a row, and the only person who ever does that is Alexis in an emergency. His heart is pounding out of his chest as he answers the call, the same paralyzing fear overtaking him the way it always does when he gets one of Alexis’s SOS calls. 

“Alexis?” he bursts out. “Are you okay? Where are you? How much do you need?” He pulls himself out of bed, shutting himself in the bathroom so Patrick won’t wake back up. 

“Chill out, David, I’m literally at Mila’s beach house in Cádiz,” Alexis says. “I can call you when I’m not actively being held hostage, you know.”

“Mmkay, but you never do, so what the fuck, Alexis? It’s four in the goddamn morning.”

“How was I supposed to know that? It’s not like I’m stalking you.”

“I’m in the same time zone I’m always in,” David bites out. “Why are you calling?”

“Um, why do you think I’m calling? I’m calling because what the fuck, why am I finding out about the cute little button-faced fiancé of yours from TMZ and not from you? I thought you were dating that homeless man.”

“Sebastien isn’t homeless, he just prefers a trashy aesthetic,” David says before his brain catches up to the important part of her sentence. “Wait, what the fuck?”

“It’s like, if you had told me about this, at least I could’ve leaked a better photo. Like you and your boy toy look great, but it’s like, do they even understand how lighting works?”

“Shut the fuck up, Alexis,” David snaps. He puts the phone on speaker, frantically googling to see what she’s talking about. 

“David?” Patrick calls from outside the bathroom door. “Is everything okay? Did something happen with your sister?”

“Oh my god, David!” Alexis shrieks so loudly that there’s no question of whether or not Patrick will overhear. “Is that him?”

“What the fuck,” David breathes, ignoring both of them as he stares down at his phone. The article’s there, spouting mostly nonsense next to a picture of the two of them in the hot tub. Patrick’s in David’s lap, his ring clearly visible where he grips David’s shoulder as they kiss. David does a reverse image search, and there it is. Rachel’s sister happens to have a public Instagram. The photo of Patrick and David is one of four photos Bethany posted with 🌈💒💖 for a caption. One of the pictures is of Stevie pressing a kiss to Rachel’s temple, but there’s nothing that specifies which of the couples pictured are getting married. 

“David, I’m going to come in if you don’t answer me,” Patrick says. 

“It’s bad luck to sleep together the night before the wedding, David,” Alexis scolds him. 

“Step on a waffle iron, Alexis,” David snaps. “We’re not getting married tomorrow.”

“Oh no, David, are you sleeping with a married guy? That never ends well for you.”

Patrick finally pushes the door open, his brow furrowed with worry. “What’s going on David?”

“David’s having a little panic attack because he’s mad that TMZ posted a picture with his hair wet,” Alexis says brightly. “I’m Alexis, by the way. His sister and life coach.”

“Um, hi Alexis,” Patrick responds. “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

David can’t respond, so he flips back to the article and hands his phone to Patrick. 

“Wedding bells are in the air,” Patrick reads. “Wow, they might be wrong about that, but they’ve certainly done their research. They figured out my full name and that we work together. That’s impressive.”

“I’m sorry, why aren’t you freaking out about this?” David demands, his voice going strangled and high pitched. “What part of this—of this slanderous garbage do you find impressive? Is it the part where they imply that I’m a sleazy boss seducing my employees? Or maybe the part where they say that you must be sleeping with me to boost your career? Is that it, Patrick?”

“Actually, David, I think it would be slanderous garbage since it’s written,” Patrick points out. He doesn’t look nearly as freaked out as he should.

“Oh my god, David,” Alexis says. “Like, calm down. No one cares about what TMZ says.”

“There’s no coming back from this!” David shrieks, pushing past Patrick so he can pace around their hotel room. “Everyone’s going to know!”

“Why does that matter?” Patrick asks. He walks over to his suitcase, pulling on some sweats so he’s not standing there naked. “My friends, my parents—basically everyone in my life already knows, and that didn’t freak you out.”

“Did you do a little meet-the-parents? David, that’s so cute! I love this for you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Alexis!” David shouts. “I have to go. Don’t tell Mom and Dad.”

“Ew, David, why would I call them?”

“Good,” David snaps, hanging up the phone and tossing it onto the bed. 

“David, it’s going to be okay,” Patrick says. He steps forward, putting his hands on David’s arms to stop his frantic pacing. “This is only going to make our marriage more believable. Isn’t that the whole plan?”

“Forcing you into the spotlight was never part of the plan! You don’t understand what it’s like, Patrick. I never meant—if I had known this would happen—”

“Hey,” Patrick says in a soft voice. “I know you didn’t want this to happen. It’s not your fault. It’s not even Bethany’s fault either. She couldn’t have known that this would happen either.”

David tips his head back, blinking rapidly so the tears swelling in his eyes don’t fall. “I should’ve seen this coming,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “They haven’t cared about me in so long that I stopped taking precautions.”

“It’ll be old news in a few days,” Patrick says. “Like you said, they haven’t cared about you in a while. Some celebrity or other will check into rehab or get arrested, and everyone will forget all about this. I promise you, I’m not upset about it. It’s going to be okay.”

“You should be upset,” David sniffles. He rests his head against Patrick’s taking a few shaky breaths.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, David.” Patrick presses a soft kiss to David’s cheek. “Come on, let’s get some sleep. We have to check out by ten, and I know how miserable that’s going to make you without enough sleep.”

“I’d be miserable even with enough sleep,” David grumbles, but he follows Patrick back into bed.

He’s never had this happen before. He’s never been with someone whose life wasn’t already all over the internet. That’s another reason why he didn’t see this coming. 

He never should’ve dragged Patrick into this. He’d been selfish, rebounding hard after Sebastien and reaching for something he knew he couldn’t have. He’d taken advantage of Patrick’s kind nature, dragging him into David’s messy life. Had Patrick even been in the position to say no? David had dangled his job in front of him to get him to agree, so maybe the article is right. Maybe David really is sleazy. It makes David feel sick to his stomach.

And now they’ve had sex, and Patrick keeps looking at David with those soft brown eyes as if David hasn’t singlehandedly ruined his life. Patrick only came out to his parents two days ago, and now he’s out to the entire world. David had done that. It might not have been his intention, but the end result was still Patrick being outed without his consent. The sick feeling grows. 

He sleeps fitfully, his anxiety waking him up again and again. When Patrick’s alarm rings in the morning, David feels like he hasn’t slept at all. “Morning,” Patrick says, nuzzling his cheek against David’s stubble. “Do you want first shower or a few extra minutes of sleep?”

David knows that he’s not going to be able to fall back asleep, so he drags himself out of bed and into the shower. He turns the water ice-cold, and even that isn’t enough to make him feel awake. He’ll need caffeine if he’s going to make it all the way to the reception tonight. Today is the entire reason they came, and David can’t let himself ruin it for Patrick. 

He doesn’t want to ruin it for Rachel and Stevie either now that he’s gotten to know them. If things were different, if David lived in this tiny town with a horrid name, David thinks he could be friends with them. He pictures all four of them curled up on a couch watching a movie, or gathered around a table for a game night. With two other people, of course, but Patrick and Rachel seem to have dozens of friends. They could find someone. 

They’re flying home tomorrow, which should make David happy. He’ll be back in his own apartment, his own bed–but without Patrick. Even the thought of the gallery doesn’t lighten his spirits, which doesn’t make any sense at all. David’s hands still on his head as he shampoos his hair, thinking back through the last few days. Has he done any work since they’d arrived in Schitt’s Creek? Has he even thought about it?

He’s spent the last few months thinking about nothing else, but now he can barely remember why the opening felt so important in the first place. Is it really worth the sleepless nights, the constant schmoozing, the pretentious artists? He’d started the gallery because he loved the work, but in the last few years he thinks that love might have begun to fade. Was he working so hard because he really loved it, or was it because he was still desperate to prove that he could do it on his own? Hasn’t he already proved that? What’s the point anymore? It’s a heavy thing to think about, and it only adds to the anxiety swirling in his head. He has to push past it, has to focus on the here and now before he completely falls apart.

David turns off the water and starts on his skincare routine. He does his best, but there’s only so much he can do to hide the bags under his eyes. His hair goes a lot better, and by the time he trades places with Patrick he looks a little less like he’d spent the entire night in one long, drawn out panic attack. He doesn’t feel much better, but there’s nothing he can do about that.

“What’s the plan for today?” David asks after they’ve checked out, climbing into the car.

“First I figured we’d get brunch,” Patrick says. The promise of breakfast food helps lift David’s spirits faintly, pushing down his worry for the first time since Alexis woke him up in the middle of the night. “And then Rachel texted me hoping we could run some errands for them. One of her cousins was supposed to pick up some things for the reception but apparently she’s not responding to any of her calls.”

“If that happened on my wedding day I would lose my shit,” David says, making a face. Worrying about Rachel’s wedding is a lot easier than worrying about any of the shit in his own life.

“That’s something we haven’t talked about.” Patrick glances over at him when they’re stopped at a light. “What do we want to do for our wedding?”

David thinks back to the wedding dream book he’d made as a child. He remembers delicately cutting out pictures from magazines and spending hours drawing out his ideas. For a moment, he pictures Patrick in the dress he’d designed for Jenna Elfman and somehow it sort of works. That’s a thought for another time. 

“The courthouse?” David shrugs. “There’s no point in spending time planning for something we’re going to dissolve a few months later.”

“Everyone knows now,” Patrick points out. “They might expect a real wedding.”

“I’ve lied to your family enough,” David says, staring out the window as the fields pass by. “I don’t want to add ‘til death do us part’ to that list.”

“It’s not a complete lie,” Patrick says after a moment. “We’re engaged. It’s only the amount of time that we’ve been engaged that we’ve exaggerated.”

“And the reason we’re engaged, the general emotion we feel about each other.”

Patrick is silent for a long stretch of road, and then he clears his throat. “David, I’m not—I haven’t been pretending about how I feel. I know you haven’t either.”

“I haven’t lied about that,” David agrees in a quiet voice. “But today is about Rachel and Stevie. We can... We can figure out what’s going on with us when we get back home.”

“Alright,” Patrick agrees. “But we’re going to talk about it, David.”

“And another thing,” David adds as if Patrick hadn’t said anything, “You didn’t tell Rachel about the article, did you?”

“Not yet. I figured she was probably going to be pretty busy today.”

“Good,” David says as Patrick pulls into a diner’s parking lot. “She doesn’t need to know. My being here has already complicated things enough. I’m not adding ruining your best friend’s wedding to the list.”

When they’re settled in their booth with coffee in front of them, the caffeine gives David the resolve he needs to ask a question that might bring up an emotional conversation. After last night, he’s not sure how many more of those he can handle.

“Are you doing okay?” he asks Patrick. “It’s okay if you feel a little mixed up about the fact that Rachel’s getting married. You were together for a long time.”

“I’m happy for her,” Patrick says, but when his eyes dart away David knows there’s more. “But it keeps making me think about the wedding we were planning together. I hated every aspect of planning. It would keep me up at night with a pit in my stomach imagining standing at the front of a church in the suit she’d picked out for me. And now I keep thinking about what I would’ve taken from her if we’d gone through with it. I took fifteen years of her life, but I was so close to taking away the rest of her life too.”

“It wouldn’t only be her life,” David says, tapping his thumb against his coffee. “You’d be forcing yourself to live a life where you never got to know who you were. You’re both victims here.”

“Victims of what, exactly? I was the one lying to myself about who I am.”

“The patriarchy? Society as a whole?” David gestures with the hand that’s holding his coffee, and some splashes onto the table. “No one ever gave you the chance to consider any other options other than the one you thought you had to build with Rachel.”

“I think I was scared,” Patrick says. He grabs a napkin, cleaning up David’s mess without being asked. “Not consciously, but deep down I was scared about what it would mean. What my life would look like.”

“The reason you were scared was because of all of the heteronormative influences in your life, so my point still stands.”

“I guess,” Patrick says. “I think Rachel getting married is going to help with all the guilt. It’s proof that she’s happy. I didn’t ruin her life for good.”

“Or yours.” David reaches out to touch Patrick’s hand for a moment. “You both have a chance to start over.”

Patrick flips his hand, curling their fingers together. “This feels like starting over.”

* * *

They spend the next few hours on a series of increasingly stressful errands. They drive half an hour one way to pick up a crate of local wine Stevie wants and forty-five minutes in the opposite direction to pick up some artisanal candles for the tables. David’s surprised by how much he enjoys getting to talk to the woman who made the candles. She tells him that she normally only sells her work at craft fairs every few months since most people aren’t willing to drive so far out into the country for her work. The beginning of an idea is bouncing around David’s head, but he doesn’t have much time to narrow in on it as they rush around picking up orders at the last minute.

It’s nearing five when they stop at the reception hall and unload everything. David can’t imagine cutting it so close on his own wedding day. He’s sure he wouldn’t be able to function underneath the anxiety of not having a decorated venue only a few hours before the ceremony started. Luckily for Rachel and Stevie, David and Patrick had been the ones to shoulder that responsibility. 

“If this wedding doesn’t go perfectly after all of the work we put in, I’m going to riot,” David tells Patrick as they head back to his parent’s house. 

“Something always goes wrong, but at the end of the day when they’re married, I don’t think they’ll remember any of it.”

“Okay, while that is a very lovely sentiment, I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that would not be the case if my wedding didn’t go exactly to plan.”

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” Patrick grins, spinning the ring on his finger with his thumb. 

“Do you think your parents will be upset when we divorce?” David blurts out before he can think better of it. “Will you tell them the truth?”

Patrick’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “I think what they want most is for me to be happy. If they thought that our divorce made me happy, then I don’t think they’d be upset.”

“You say that like the divorce wouldn’t make you happy,” David frowned. “You’d get your life back.”

“I’m not losing my life by marrying you, David.” Patrick stares intently at the road, and David can’t read his expression. “If I hadn’t agreed to this, I still wouldn’t be out to my parents. I wouldn’t be about to watch Rachel marry the love of her life. You gave me that. I’m not losing anything at all.”

“You say that now,” David says, fidgeting in his seat. “But once you get caught by a paparazzo when you’re in sweatpants taking out the garbage you won’t feel the same.”

“You say that like you don’t look amazing in sweatpants. I’ve seen you in sweatpants, David. In fact, I distinctly remember rubbing off on you in sweatpants.”

David can’t argue with that. 

They make it back with barely enough time for them to get ready. Patrick doesn’t seem concerned, but then again, Patrick’s idea of getting ready probably consists of putting on his suit and nothing more. David still thinks it’s unfair how hot he manages to look with how little effort he puts into it. 

David touches up his suit with the travel steamer he’d brought. He hasn’t worn this suit in a while, but he remembers how good it looks on him. He dresses in the bathroom, vain enough to want to see Patrick’s reaction after a dramatic reveal. Patrick’s already dressed, lounging on the bed while he reads through the comments people have left on Bethany’s Instagram. It seems like David’s hope of keeping this away from Rachel until after the wedding has been crushed. 

“Here’s a good one,” Patrick calls out from behind the door. “It says, ‘how much do you want to bet that photo was staged?’ but they spelled bet with two Ts.”

“If that photo were staged, my hair wouldn’t have looked like it was styled by a child who couldn’t reach the top of my head,” David calls back. “And we probably wouldn’t have made it so obvious that you were in your boxers instead of a swimsuit.”

“Oh, I don’t know, David. I think the boxers were a nice touch. I know how much you love blue plaid.”

“Why am I marrying you again?” David shoots back. He brushes some non-existent lint off of his shoulders, and then he steps out of the bathroom. “What do you think?”

“Jesus Christ, David,” Patrick says, which is exactly the reaction David was hoping for. “I think I’m going to spend the entire night thinking about getting you into bed when the reception’s over.”

“And if you can’t last that long, there’s always slipping into a broom closet,” David grins. “Get up, your collar’s crooked.”

It isn’t really, but David likes the way it feels to stand in front of Patrick and straighten his collar. He can picture himself doing this hundreds of times, feeling soft and domestic before they go out. He tries to ignore the fantasy, but it’s already stuck in his head.

Once he’s done with Patrick’s collar, David can’t resist tipping his head down to brush their lips together. “I think I should’ve instantiated a stricter dress code at work,” he says, sliding his thumb over Patrick’s cheekbone. “You’re gorgeous in a suit.”

“But then how would we ever get any work done?” Patrick pulls David back in for another kiss. One of his hands slips up underneath David’s jacket, warm and solid against his back. David slides his tongue over the lush swell of Patrick’s lip, but then he forces himself to step away. If they get distracted, they’re going to be late to the entire reason they came here. 

Patrick’s parents insist on taking pictures of them before they leave, and David loves how flustered it makes Patrick. “They weren’t this bad at my prom,” Patrick murmurs as they pose for another photo. “And that’s an actual rite of passage.”

“Your mother showed me pictures from your prom, and I don’t think the world is missing out on having more of them. The suit you were wearing looked like you picked it out of a garbage dump and called it a day.”

“It was a hand-me-down from my cousin Michael, so basically the same thing,” Patrick laughs. 

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Marcy says. She walks over to them, showing them the picture on her screen. Patrick’s leaning into David, and David’s looking at him while trying to repress a smile. It’s the kind of photo you’d save to your lock screen or keep on your desk, and David desperately wants that. 

“Send that to me,” Patrick says. David can’t hold back the smile that comes from knowing Patrick was thinking the same thing. He’d wanted proof that this had happened, that at one point he’d had something close to the real thing. Now no matter how this ends up, at least he’ll have that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for your comments! I just adopted a puppy on saturday so I haven't had time to reply to them yet but I appreciate every one!

Patrick isn’t sure what David is going to think of the wedding. He knows David has very strong opinions on what is and isn’t correct, and he knows David’s been to weddings that cost more money than Patrick has ever seen in his life. When they get to the venue and settle in their seats David’s only snarky comments are about the misbehaving children sitting a few rows down from them. Patrick tells David that children aren’t allowed at the reception and David lets out an audible sigh of relief. 

Patrick’s eyes get a little misty when the doors open and Rachel comes out. David wraps his arm around him, pulling him closer. “Absolutely gorgeous dress,” David whispers against his ear. “And the paper flowers are stunning. I’ve got to ask her where she got those.” It’s high praise coming from David. 

The wedding goes by quickly, and as the vows start David’s looking a little teary too. Stevie is uncharacteristically sincere, the thickness in her voice betraying how emotional she feels. Listening to Rachel’s vows feels like an absolution, and Patrick thinks he might finally be ready to start forgiving himself for everything he put her through. 

“She looked so happy,” David tells Patrick when the ceremony is over. “I’m glad you got to see that.”

“I think I needed to,” Patrick agrees. He laces their fingers together as they head over to the reception. “Thank you for making it happen.”

“Mm, I don’t think I can take credit for that when I’m also the reason you weren’t going to be able to come,” David points out. 

“It wouldn’t have been the same without you here. You made everything easier.”

“Have you met me? I don’t think anyone’s ever said I make things easier.”

“They must not know you very well.”

* * *

Partway through the reception, Patrick runs into one of Rachel’s aunts. She hasn’t been a fan of Patrick since their first break up back in high school, and her gaze narrows when she sees him.

“I heard she invited you, but I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to come,” she tells him. 

“Um, excuse me?” David says, and Patrick can see from the look in his eyes that he’s ready to go off on her. It makes him smile to think of David defending him from this sixty-year-old woman, but that’s not going to make the situation any better. He takes David’s arm, shaking his head a little so he knows to back off. 

“I know I put her through a lot, but we’re both happy that we’ve managed to stay friends,” Patrick tells her. “It meant a lot to me to be invited, and I think it means a lot to her that I came.”

She seems to hone in on Patrick’s ring as he clutches David’s arm, and her frown deepens. “Engaged again? Well, that won’t last.”

“So what the fuck was that?” David demands after she’s finally stomped away.

“Rachel never told her family what happened between us since I wasn’t out. I think not knowing the reason makes the fact that I strung her along for so many years even harder to stomach.”

“Her perfume was hard to stomach,” David snarks, and Patrick can’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss. 

“C’mon, dance with me?” he asks.

Unsurprisingly, David is an amazing dancer. “I spent most of my childhood attending one gala or another. You pick it up quickly.”

“I think I danced for the first time at my prom, and even then it wasn’t by choice,” Patrick tells him. David does his best to guide him through the steps, but Patrick has to focus very hard to avoid stepping on David’s feet. That doesn’t leave him much time to enjoy being so close to David, so Patrick’s happy when the music switches to something slow. David wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders as they sway together, and Patrick feels a sharp swell of emotion he’s never felt before. He’s never felt such intimacy as he feels being cradled in David’s arms, their faces so close to each other. He’s not ready to let this end. 

“I’m really glad you came home with me, David,” Patrick says. “I always thought you hated me, but now that couldn’t feel farther from the truth.”

“I never hated you,” David says. “Well, except for maybe that time you spilled coffee on my Neil Barrett crewneck.”

“That was a dark day,” Patrick agrees solemnly. “I’m honestly surprised I kept my job.”

“Luckily for you, a new collection was about to drop or you might not have,” David says with a smile. 

“Very convenient timing.”

“I feel that way too,” David says after a pause. “About the last few days. I expected to hate it here, but I didn’t.”

“Not actively hating my family and hometown. High praise coming from David Rose,” he grins. 

“I’m actually being sincere for once,” David rolls his eyes. “I genuinely like your family. Jury’s still out on your hometown.”

“Give it time,” Patrick says. He reaches up for a kiss, fingers sliding through the back of David’s hair. Giving it time is Patrick’s game plan. He’s going to use the next few months to show David how well they work together, how happy he can make David. Patrick doesn’t care one way or the other if they divorce once David’s status is in the clear. They don’t need to be married to stay together. 

David sighs into him, his arms tightening around Patrick. Patrick pours everything he feels into the kiss, and by the tender look on David’s face as they break apart, he thinks he might have succeeded. 

The song changes, and then there’s a tap on David’s shoulder.

“Mind if I steal him for a sec?” Rachel asks. 

“Of course,” David says, and Rachel takes his place. 

“Bet you never thought you’d see me in one of these,” Rachel says, gesturing down to her wedding dress. 

“You look stunning,” Patrick tells her. “Stevie’s face as you walked down the aisle nearly made me cry.”

“Thank god for waterproof mascara,” Rachel laughs. They dance in silence for a few moments, and then Rachel says, “I thought about you a few times today. About the wedding we never had.”

“So did I.”

“I dreamed about this for years,” she gestures between the two of them. “Dancing with you at our wedding. In my head, it was going to be this one perfect moment, where everything between the two of us would finally make sense.”

“I don’t think we would’ve ever been able to get to this point if we’d made it to the altar,” Patrick says. “Rebuilding our friendship was hard enough as it was, and that was without the baggage of a divorce.”

“You’re right,” she says. “Our first dance wouldn’t have been a perfect moment, and not only because you can’t dance. We would’ve tried our best to ignore it but it would’ve felt... off. I think there was some small part of me that was scared today might feel like that with Stevie.”

“That’s my fault. You wouldn’t have worried like that before me.”

“I was sixteen before you, but you’re not wrong. After years of a relationship that was always one step away from falling apart, it’s hard to know when you’ve found something real.” 

“You have something real,” Patrick tells her. “I spent our whole relationship wishing I could learn to look at you the way Stevie does.”

“I’m starting to think you might have something real too.” Rachel glances over to where David is standing near the bar, chatting with Stevie. “I saw you at the spa last night. I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Like what?”

“Is it bitchy if I say happy?” Rachel asks, and Patrick lets out a laugh. 

“David makes me happy,” Patrick agrees. “But I don’t know if it’s real. I want it to be, but David’s been hurt before. There’s a delicate balance between telling him how I feel and scaring him away.”

“I’m sure the article didn’t help. Bethany was in tears when she found out. She feels so guilty.” 

Patrick winces, wishing they could have kept the drama away from both of them until after the wedding. Rachel doesn’t seem too worked up about it, though, so it doesn’t seem to have put a damper on her day. “We’ll go talk to her later,” he promises. “We both know it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have known what would happen.”

“If she had, she definitely wouldn’t have posted it. How did David take it?”

“He was upset. He’s convinced he’s dragged me into something that I’m going to regret.”

“He might have,” Rachel says. “You know the risks if you get caught. I doubt defrauding the US government is a crime they let you off easy for.”

“Is it fraud if I’m not lying about being in love with him?” Patrick asks. It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud.

“It’s been three days, Patrick. I think that’s a bit of a stretch.”

“It’s been two years,” Patrick says. “Two years of being in awe of him, even when he was being a dick. When I’m with him, I feel like I’m a part of something wonderful. He makes me feel right.”

“I still think you’re taking a huge risk,” Rachel frowns.

“Oh, I know I am. But if it means I have a chance to have David, it’s worth it.” Patrick means every word of it. He’s stayed in a city he loathes for two years because of David. He’s spent hundreds of sleepless nights working himself to death to help David achieve his vision. At this point, there’s not much Patrick wouldn’t do for ten minutes of David’s time.

“I think I understand that,” Rachel says, looking over at Stevie again. “I’d risk federal prison for Stevie.”

“What did you think of David last night?” Patrick asks. 

“The two of you look more natural after three days than we did after fifteen years,” Rachel says with a smile. “He seemed like he was trying pretty hard to impress your friends, and given what you’ve told me about David in the past, that must mean he really cares about you.”

“Is it weird how similar he and Stevie are?” 

“I don’t think I’m that surprised that we’d both have the same type. But god, the idea of David and Stevie teaming up together is kind of frightening.”

“They’d be too powerful together,” Patrick laughed.

“But they’d make a _very_ attractive couple,” Rachel says with a wicked grin.

Patrick bursts into surprised laughter at that. The song ends a few moments later, and Rachel drops her arms. “I should get back to my wife,” she says, beaming at the word. “But don’t be a stranger, okay? I don’t want to wait another two years to see you in Schitt’s Creek.”

“I won’t,” Patrick promises. He leans forward and presses a kiss on the top of her head.

The last time Patrick had looked over at David he’d been laughing, but when Patrick gets back to the bar David looks tense. He wraps his arm around him while he orders a beer, and then they walk back to their table together. David sips his drink a little too quickly.

“Is everything okay?” Patrick asks. “We can probably go home now that I’ve talked to Rachel if you’re getting tired.” 

“I’m not tired,” David says after he finishes his glass. He sits up a little straighter, giving Patrick a smile. There’s still something in his eyes, but Patrick decides not to push it. David doesn’t love being in big crowds, so maybe that’s getting to him. Patrick’s dragged him into social situations with strangers for the last few days, and it must be starting to weigh him down. “I was thinking.”

“About?”

David’s gaze flickers around the room for a moment before he speaks. “Earlier I was thinking about how inconvenient picking up everything for the reception was,” David says. “And Stevie told me that the origami bouquets were made by an artist in Elm Valley, wherever the fuck that is.”

“What’s your point?” Patrick asks. He’s pretty sure that whatever David’s getting at isn’t what’s making him look so tense, but his shoulders are starting to relax as he talks so Patrick doesn’t mind the change in subject.

“Someone should make it easier to connect local products with consumers,” David says, “so that people only have to go to one location.”

“Like the farmer’s market? They have those during the spring and summer.”

“No, something permanent. A single brand that all of the vendors could sell their products under on consignment, which would save them the time and money it takes to market and sell.” 

Patrick hadn’t been expecting that. “That’s actually a really good idea, David,” Patrick says. “There’s definitely a gap in the market there.” It’s exactly the type of idea that Patrick’s always wanted to come up with, and David’s thought it up after a few hours of errands. 

“You should tell one of your business major friends about it,” David says. “Then the next time one of your friends gets married you won’t have to spend so much time driving around.”

Patrick nods, but he can’t imagine any of his friends building something like David’s describing. They don’t have David’s eye for design, his vision, his impeccable knowledge of what people want. Patrick’s seen David sell art, seen him upsell a sculpture until the patron’s offering twice what they were originally hoping to sell it for. No one else he knows could do that, not even on a smaller scale like a local store. 

“What were you and Rachel talking about?” David asks after a lull in the conversation.

“You. What were you and Stevie talking about?”

“Belgian politics,” David deadpans. “It was very dull.”

“I’m sure,” Patrick laughs. He sets down his beer, pressing a kiss to David’s cheek. “Are you ready to go? I think I’m going to try to find Bethany so I can tell her there are no hard feelings about the article. Rachel said she was pretty upset. We can head out after that.”

“Speaking of that,” David says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to Patrick. Patrick glances down at it. The screen is full of missed calls from Moira Rose. 

“Apparently her PA has a google alert for her name,” David says. “And the article mentioned that I’m her son. So she passed along the good news to my mother, and now my entire family is probably freaking out.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“When would I have had time?” David slips the phone back into his pocket. “Besides, we don’t talk much.”

“Maybe they’re happy for you.”

“Or maybe they’re planning to come to New York, in which case I’m going into hiding,” David says.

“You’re very welcome to go into hiding at my place, but you should know that I share an apartment with four other people,” Patrick tells him. David looks completely horrified. 

“Oh my god, how do you live like that? I shared an entire wing with Alexis as a child and it was too crowded.” 

“That sounds rough,” Patrick laughs. “But listen, we’ll figure out what we need to do about your parents, okay? I won’t make you deal with them alone.”

“The last thing I want is you having to interact with my parents.” David makes a face. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it. Go talk to Bethany.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Patrick promises. He’s gone all of ten minutes, but David isn’t at the table when he gets back. Patrick does a loop around the room, finally finding him coming out of the bathroom. His eyes are a little red, but he smiles when he sees Patrick. 

“Shall we?” David asks.

Patrick wants to ask David what’s going on, but he’s too worried that it will make David become even more distant. He settles for threading their fingers together as they walk out to the car. 

It’s a beautiful night, and walking under the moonlight makes everything feel a little more romantic. He’s reaching for his keys when David pushes him against the car door, kissing him deeply. “I have a surprise for you when we get home,” David says, nipping on Patrick’s lip before he pulls away. It’s a complete 180 from David’s mood a few moments before, but Patrick’s not complaining. 

David spends the entire ride with his hand slightly too high on his knee, and Patrick’s half-hard by the time they get home. 

“Thank god,” Patrick says when they pull into the driveway and see all of the lights off. “Be quiet as we come in. I don’t want to wake them up.”

David waits until they’re safely in the basement, but then he’s pushing Patrick onto the bed and straddling his waist. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you in the suit,” he says, sliding his hands up Patrick’s jacket. “Only you could make such a cheap suit look so good.”

“Not sure that’s a compliment,” Patrick says breathlessly. David’s ass drags over his dick, and Patrick lets out a groan. “Fuck, David, I’m already so hard.”

“All for me,” David murmurs, leaning down to suck kisses against his neck. His hands move to Patrick’s chest, effortlessly working through the buttons. 

“You said—” Patrick closes his eyes, biting his lip hard when David licks over one of his nipples. “You said you had a surprise.”

David pulls back and Patrick whines at the loss. “I do,” David grins. “Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll show you when you get out?”

“A thorough shower?” Patrick asks. His cock throbs at the promise when David nods. He sits up and gives David a bruising kiss, and then he dashes to the bathroom for the fastest shower he can manage. It takes everything he has to ignore his cock, but he knows whatever David has planned will be worth the wait. 

“Fuck, David,” Patrick groans as he steps out of the bathroom. David’s spread out on the bed, still wearing his gorgeous suit. He’s pulled his cock out of his fly, and the image it makes while he strokes himself is absolutely filthy. “I need to suck you.”

“Not so fast,” David says, reaching out to stop Patrick as he leans in for David’s cock. “Don’t you want your surprise?” 

David reaches over the side of the bed, pulling something out of his bag and tossing it at Patrick. “When did you get these?” Patrick asks. He can feel his precome leaking onto the sheets just from looking at the box of condoms. 

“When we stopped for gas earlier,” David says, reaching out to give Patrick’s nipple a pinch. “We don’t have to do anything that needs them, but after yesterday I thought you might want to.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to fuck me,” Patrick groans. He sets the box on the bed, crawling forward to kiss David. David grabs his ass, bringing him closer so that their bare cocks brush against each other. Patrick keens into David’s mouth, already so on edge.

“Lie down,” David tells him. He pulls away far enough to finish getting undressed, taking time to lay out his suit so it won’t get wrinkled. Patrick groans at the sight of David’s ass when he bends over to get the lube out of his bag, his cock aching so badly that he has to grab it at the base. 

“And you call me impatient,” David grins, climbing back on top of Patrick. Their mouths meet in a bruising kiss, David’s gentle hand stroking down his side in direct contrast to the sting of his teeth. Patrick’s head is already spinning, his fingers digging into David’s back as he tries to pull him closer. 

David kisses his way down to Patrick’s cock, taking time to bite over Patrick’s nipples until they’re red and aching. “Please, David,” Patrick gasps. He’s not sure what he’s begging for. He just knows that he needs more. 

David sucks a mark over his hip, inches away from where Patrick wants his mouth. He reaches out for the lube, and then there’s a slick finger toying over Patrick’s hole. Patrick arches back, trying to push himself as close to David’s hands as physically possible. 

“If you’re this responsive to my finger, I can’t imagine how gorgeous you’d be with my tongue in you,” David says as he slips the tip of his finger inside of Patrick. 

“Next time,” Patrick gasps out. David’s only response is to slip his finger all the way in, another finger teasing at his rim before he pushes that one in too. His fingers are big enough that Patrick already feels a bit of a stretch. He can’t imagine how good David’s cock is going to feel. David’s fingers curl up, teasing over his prostate for an achingly brief moment before he pulls them out again. His head tilts down while he fucks his fingers in and out of Patrick, mouthing over the base of Patrick’s cock. Each thrust of his fingers is just shy of what Patrick needs, and he’s falling apart under David’s hands. 

“More, I can take more,” he begs, his cock thrusting up, brushing against the side of David’s face. His stubble drags against the sensitive skin, and Patrick gasps at how good it feels. David’s other hand comes up and over Patrick’s hips, holding them down against the bed. 

“Someone likes being held down,” David grins when he sees Patrick’s cock jerk. He sucks the tip of Patrick’s cock for a brief moment, and right as Patrick’s toes start to curl against the sheets he pulls away. His arm slides off of Patrick’s hips and then he’s pouring more lube into his hand. Patrick rocks down as David pushes in a third finger, instinctively reaching down to grab his cock. 

“Fuck,” David groans, watching as Patrick jerks himself in time to David’s fingers. He stretches his fingers out a little, and then he pulls them out and sits back on his heels. Patrick moans as he watches David roll on the condom and slick himself up. He leans over Patrick, kissing him softly as he slides the head of his cock over Patrick’s rim. All of his frantic energy goes away as he starts to press in, gasping as he slowly sinks his cock all the way in. 

“You feel so good,” Patrick gasps against David’s neck. He clenches down on David’s cock, and David’s hand tightens on his hip in response. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, holy fuck, Patrick.” David slowly starts to move, and Patrick’s so overwhelmed that all he can do is lie back and be kissed. When David’s hips start to move faster, each thrust dragging his cock against Patrick’s prostate, he can’t even manage to do that anymore. 

David reaches between them, and suddenly Patrick’s cock is surrounded by the slick heat of David’s hand. Patrick’s pleasure ratchets higher and higher, and then he’s coming hard between their chests. It feels like it goes on for hours, David fucking him through it. His head falls back on the bed, gasping as he comes down.

“No, don’t,” Patrick says in a breathless voice as David starts to pull out. “You can keep going.”

David doesn’t need to be told twice. His head tips down, their foreheads resting together as he fucks Patrick. Patrick reaches between them, sliding his fingers through the come on David’s chest. He uses his slick finger to flick over David’s nipple, and then David’s hips are stilling as he comes. He stays there for a moment, getting his breath back before he grabs the base of the condom and pulls out. Patrick lets out a little sound, his hole twitching as he gets used to being empty again. 

David flops onto his back next to Patrick. “Holy shit,” he says. 

“That’s an understatement.” Patrick moves closer to David, resting against his chest. 

“You’re going to get stuck there if we don’t shower soon,” David says even as he wraps his arm around Patrick. Patrick can feel David’s chest move with each breath, and when he turns his head he can hear the rapid staccato of David’s heart. 

“We’re going to need to change the sheets,” Patrick says with a yawn. “And maybe start the washer before my parents wake up.”

“They gave us this room specifically so we could have sex,” David laughs. “I don’t think they’ll care about the sheets.”

“No, but they’ll still give me shit for it,” Patrick grumbles. David rubs his hand down Patrick’s rib cage, and then he pulls himself up. 

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

Patrick lets David help him up. He can’t bear to not be touching David, so he drapes himself against David’s back as he starts up the shower. David turns in his arms, and they make out until the water is done heating up. 

Patrick lets David get underneath the shower first, watching as the water pours down his body. Once he’s scrubbed off the come he switches places with Patrick, pressing kisses to Patrick’s back as he cleans up. Patrick hears David opening a bottle, and then his hands start massaging shampoo into Patrick’s hair. Patrick leans back against David’s chest, closing his eyes and sighing happily into the touches.

“That doesn’t smell like my shampoo.” 

“That’s because I refuse to let your Suave two-in-one touch my skin,” David says, his voice dripping with disgust. “This isn’t perfect for your hair type, but it’s miles above what you were using.”

“You know I used to have a three-in-one,” Patrick tells him with a grin. “Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash all in the same container. So convenient.”

“It’s like you want me to throw up on you,” David says. “Tip your head back so we can rinse.”

David follows with conditioner, and then he’s scrubbing body wash over Patrick that smells distinctly of David. 

“My turn,” Patrick says when he’s rinsed off. He reaches past David for his shampoo, but David grabs his hand.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. “You can get out if you want.”

Patrick frowns. “Do you want me to get out or are you saying that because you think I want to?”

David pauses for a moment, and then he lets go of Patrick’s hand so that he can grab the shampoo. “I’ve always thought your hair was so gorgeous,” Patrick says as he works his fingers through it. David lets out a soft sound, his face completely relaxed as Patrick washes his hair. “Always wondered what it would feel like to drag my fingers through it.”

“Did it live up to your expectations?”

“More than,” Patrick says, pressing a kiss to the back of David’s neck. 

He’s moved on to conditioner when David speaks, his voice barely audible above the thrum of the water against the tub. “No one’s ever done this for me before. I mean, like, stylists have, but no one I was sleeping with. No one that mattered.”

“I feel honoured to be the first,” Patrick says softly. 

“You’ve been the first on a lot of things,” David tells him. “Not, like, sex, obviously, but… All the sappy things.”

“You make me feel very sappy,” Patrick says as he tips David’s head back to rinse out his hair. “I want all of those things with you.”

David lets out a pained sound. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” Patrick asks as he lathers body wash onto David. “You deserve to hear them.”

“I really don’t,” David says, swallowing thickly. “But that’s sweet of you to say.”

“It’s true,” Patrick says firmly, and this time David doesn’t argue. 

When they’re done with the shower, Patrick goes to change the sheets while David finishes his skincare routine. He finishes before David does, so he leans against the doorway and watches him. He’s struck with the same overpowering feeling of intimacy that he’d felt while they were dancing. He wonders how many people have gotten to see David like this. He asks David about his products, doing his best to memorize each step. He wants to know everything about David, all the small things that two years of being his employee couldn’t teach him. 

When they get into bed, David spoons behind him, and Patrick cuddles close to David’s chest. They pull up the blankets and settle in for the night. Patrick can feel David’s lips brush against his shoulder before right as he drifts to sleep.

Patrick wakes up with a smile on his face. He stretches out in bed, reaching out for David. He sits up when his hand comes back empty, looking around. There’s no one in the bathroom, and glancing at his phone tells him it’s barely five am. David shouldn’t be awake right now, let alone upstairs. He pulls himself out of bed, but when he gets upstairs all of the lights are still off. “David?” he calls out, poking his head out onto the porch. His heart starts to pound in his chest, and he lets the door slam shut as he races downstairs for his phone. He’s got it to his ear as he calls David when he notices that all of David’s bags are gone. 

David’s phone goes to voicemail. He calls again, pacing around the room frantically. He’s on his third call when he bumps into his bag and hears rustling as a piece of paper falls to the floor. The jagged edges show that it was ripped out of David’s journal, and Patrick’s heart drops as he flips it over and reads the two words scratched out in David’s handwriting. 

_I’m sorry._

His phone pings and he scrambles to check it but it isn’t from David. His stomach sinks as he sees the text from his bank alerting him to an unusually large deposit. 

“Is everything okay, boys?” he hears his mom call out from the top of the stairs. 

“No,” Patrick chokes out, scrubbing the tears from his face. “I need to tell you something.”


	8. Chapter 8

If David had known that the only Uber in Schitt’s Creek was driven by a man who would not shut the fuck up about all of his small businesses, he might have walked to the airport. His head is pounding from his second sleepless night, and he can barely manage to hum in response to whatever the guy is saying. They’re pulling up to the airport when his phone rings, and it hurts even more than he thought it would when he sees Patrick’s name on the screen. David closes his eyes, letting it ring out before he turns his phone off. 

“Have a safe trip! Don’t forget to leave five stars!” the man calls out at him after he helps David with his bags. David is not going to be doing that. 

He gets a coffee at the closest shop, and ten minutes later he’s walking up the steps to their private jet. 

“You’re lucky I was already back from Cádiz,” Alexis’s voice calls out as he walks into the cabin. 

“What the fuck, Alexis,” David yells, nearly dropping his coffee. “Why are you here?”

“Um, you called me in the middle of the night asking for the jet,” Alexis says with a toss of her hair. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“I asked for you to send over the jet. You weren’t supposed to come with it!” David snaps as he throws himself back into his chair. 

“You’ve never called me in an emergency, David! I thought you were, like, dying or something gross.” 

“Well, I’m not dying, so you can fuck off as soon as we get back to New York.” David tips his head back, pushing on his sunglasses to block out the light. 

“I’ll leave after you tell me what’s going on with that little button of yours. Did you call off the wedding? Did he leave you at the altar?” The concern in her voice only serves to piss David off more. 

“We were never getting married,” David bites out. “I fucked up my immigration shit and I needed a way to stay in the States. It wasn’t real.”

“If it wasn’t real why do you look like you got dumped?” Alexis asks. She reaches for her bag, pulling out a nail file. 

“Okay, for your information, I left him,” David snaps. He gets up, walking to the minibar and dumping a mini bottle of whiskey into his coffee. 

“You’ve never broken up with anyone before, David,” Alexis says. “This sounds big.”

“It doesn’t count as a breakup if we weren’t really dating,” David says as he sits back down. The plane starts moving down the runway, and David reaches out to pull down his window shade. Alexis pulls hers open with a pointed look. 

“There’s literally a hickey on your neck,” she tells him. David pulls up the front camera on his phone, wincing as he looks at it. He takes a deep breath, willing himself not to cry.

“We fucked. That doesn’t mean there were feelings involved,” David says with a long sip of his coffee. 

“Um, except it’s you, David? So we both know there were feelings involved. And now you’re trapped with me in a small space for the next two hours, so I don’t think you’re going to get out of telling me.”

“Fine,” David says, leaning forward to tug her shade down. “If I tell you, will you shut the fuck up for the rest of the flight?”

“I won’t talk to you,” Alexis modifies. “But if Stavros calls, I can’t just ignore him. Unlike you, I’m trying to keep my relationship.”

David flips her off, and she grins mock-sweetly in response. He slumps in his seat, and then the words come pouring out. When he gets to the part about his parents funding the gallery, Alexis gasps. 

“But the gallery’s your whole life,” she says. “You really had no idea?”

“If I had known do you think I would’ve bothered hiring a finance guy?” David asks. He starts his story back up, but Alexis interjects again.

“Wait, do you think mom and dad were paying off my modelling career too?” Of course, that’s what Alexis would latch on to.

“They were probably paying off the Girl Guides too,” David says to be a bitch. “There’s no way you earned that many badges by showing up twice.”

“Or maybe I was good at—at whatever it was they gave me badges for. You don’t know, David,” Alexis huffs. “But whatever, get to the point.”

“Um, I was trying to before you rudely interrupted me.” 

He and Alexis keep snapping at each other throughout his story, and something about it is almost soothing. At least that part of his life hasn’t changed. Although Alexis sitting through an entire conversation that isn’t about her might be new, he thinks. 

“So he says he cares about you, you meet his entire family, and you spend like all week fucking. How does that lead to you calling me at two in the morning, exactly?” 

“He only said that because I was giving him money.” David’s stretched out on the couch now, one arm flung over his face. “Or maybe he was trying to get me to fuck him. I don’t know.”

“You’re an idiot, David,” Alexis says, and David can practically hear her rolling her eyes. 

“Anyway!” he says before she can find more ways to insult him, “Then we went to his ex-fiancée-slash-best friend’s wedding—and yes, that’s exactly as weird as it sounds—and I realized that it would never work between us, so I called you and here we are.”

He’s leaving out the most important part, but it still feels too raw to say out loud. He’d been having second thoughts all day, the article constantly at the back of his head. The wedding had been so lovely, and that only added to his doubts. Patrick deserved something like that. He deserved someone normal, who could marry him without anyone thinking he was sleeping with his boss to get ahead. Then they’d danced, and David had felt his heart cracking apart. He’d danced with hundreds of people, but he’d never felt the way Patrick’s awkward shuffling made him feel. He’d wanted to bury himself in that moment because he knew nothing in his life would ever compete with it. 

But Rachel had tapped on his shoulder and the moment had ended. David had only remembered the name of one other person in the room, so he’d gone straight to Stevie. They’d bantered for a little bit, joking about their partners running away together. It had been fine—comfortable, even—but then Stevie had mentioned that Rachel had told her about the green card marriage. 

“She thinks it’s a terrible idea,” Stevie had said. “She’s been freaking out about Patrick getting arrested ever since she found out. But after last night, I think she’s coming around.”

“Um, arrested?” David had asked, his voice going high pitched in the way it did when he was panicking. 

Stevie had looked at him like he was an idiot, and then she’d explained. David couldn’t hear anything she said past _federal prison_. He could vaguely remember Patrick mentioning that their case might get flagged, but he’d figured that was more of a risk of losing his visa than anything else. He hadn’t even thought about the repercussions this could have on Patrick. It was bad enough that Patrick was forced into the public eye, forced into coming out to the entire world only days after he’d come out to his family and friends. The risk of prison on top of that—David won’t even let himself consider it. Fuck, what had he done? 

The rest of the night had passed in a blur, even as David willed time to slow down so he could enjoy his last day with Patrick. He knew he shouldn’t have had sex with Patrick, not when he knew he was going to be gone in the morning. It had been selfish, but he’d felt desperate for one last moment together. One last moment where he could pretend that this was something real. He couldn’t have told Patrick the truth either, because he knew Patrick would have tried to talk him out of it. Even if he knew Patrick wouldn’t have been able to change his mind, David wanted their last memory together to be Patrick falling asleep in his arms, not the two of them arguing about marriage fraud.

Every part of him wanted to stay. He was crying before he called Alexis about the jet, and he’d spent a good part of the drive with the overbearing Uber driver wiping away silent tears. Leaving Patrick tore him apart, but for once David was willing to put someone else in front of himself. Patrick was going to be safe. That was the only thing that mattered.

“David,” Alexis snaps, pulling David back out of his thoughts. “I was saying, what are you going to do now? You can’t just binge eat ice cream, feel sorry for yourself, and get deported.” 

“I am going to leave the country voluntarily and reapply for a visa whenever I’m eligible again,” David says, sitting up as the plane starts going through turbulence. “Like I should have done in the first place.”

“So what happens to Patrick and the gallery?”

“I’ll hire someone to sell the gallery and Patrick will find a new job. He’s got my name on his resume. He’ll be fine.” David hopes that’s true. He could make some calls, maybe, see if he can get Patrick a few interviews without him realizing they were organized by David. Fuck, maybe he should’ve sent Patrick more money.

“What are you going to do in Canada?” Alexis sounds less interested now that all of the gossipy parts of the story are over, and David’s sure she’s scrolling through Instagram at the same time. 

“I don’t know, what do you do all day, Alexis?” David huffs. “It’s not like you have a job.”

“Um, I’m an influencer and a style icon, so I don’t know what your point is, David,” she says. “That’s even more of a job because I’m doing it all the time. I don’t get time off.”

Now it’s David’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’ll figure something out,” he says. “I want to lie low until the whole engagement thing dies out.”

“Someone found a picture of you and Patrick at an opening,” Alexis says. David sits up at that, walking back to the chair next to hers. 

“Do you have it? I want to see,” he demands.

“Oh my god, David. Like, give me a moment,” Alexis huffs. She flicks through her phone and then she hands it to David.

It’s a picture from the first opening they’d had after Patrick had discovered what his parents were doing. David can tell that from a sculpture in the background; they’d had to negotiate with the artist for hours to get it, but it had been worth it when it sold for triple what he’d paid for it. David’s holding a glass of wine, his hand stretched out as he gestures towards something off-screen. And Patrick… Patrick’s looking at him with the same warm gaze that David had thought he’d seen for the first time this week. David’s heart flips, and he shoves the phone back into Alexis’ hand. 

“He’s got total heart eyes,” Alexis says. “But that braided belt is not a good look. Anyway, the article didn’t say anything the first one didn’t. And they only talked about you for like, ten minutes on air.”

David flops face down onto the couch, letting out a loud groan into the pillows. He’d known what he was giving up when he’d left Patrick there, sleeping peacefully in the bed they’d shared. He’d known that it would hurt like nothing David had ever felt before. But he hadn’t known this, hadn’t known the depth of what Patrick felt for him. David can’t imagine anyone ever looking at him like that again. He can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else to look at him like that. 

It’s barely been five hours since David left Patrick and Schitt’s Creek, but David can already tell that he’s never going to get over it. 

David has a week until he needs to leave the country. The opening is cancelled, and the real estate agent David hires is able to find a buyer in a number of hours. Real estate goes fast in the city. He sends a company to clear out their offices because he can’t bear to go back. He leaves them with Patrick’s address so they can deliver his things. It’s the last time he’s ever going to contact Patrick, albeit through an intermediary, and that knowledge is devastating. 

When he’d finally turned on his phone after they landed there were three missed calls from Patrick, all in a row. He hasn’t reached out since. It’s for the best, David knows, but his heart rate still accelerates every time his phone vibrates. 

He thinks about throwing one last party to say goodbye to his friends. He knows hundreds of people would show up, and maybe then he’d feel a little less lonely. But they’d only be there for the blow, the drinks, whatever his money could buy. He’d been gone for four days, and only two people had texted him including Sebastien. At this point, he has more friends in Schitt’s Creek than he ever had here. So he spends his last week in the city ordering takeout from all of his favourite places. He hires movers to pack everything but his closet—because he doesn’t trust anyone enough to touch his clothes—and has them shipped to the apartment he’s going to rent in Toronto until he figures out what he wants to do next.

He eats a lot of ice cream and feels very sorry for himself. He hates that Alexis knows him so well. 

His parents call, and for once David answers. He tells them the articles were a mistake, but he doesn’t get into detail. Once their curiosity is sated, he’s sure he won’t hear from them for another few months. That fact bothers him more now than it would have a few days ago, as he thinks back to the convivial meals he’d spent with Patrick’s family. God, he wonders how Patrick had explained his disappearance. He hasn’t thought of that until now, and he hates knowing he’d put Patrick in such an awkward position. It’s another thing to add to the list of shitty things he’s done to Patrick.

He spends his last night in the city in his empty apartment. He’d kept his mattress so he’d have somewhere to sleep, and it feels especially pathetic to be lying on a mattress on the floor of his living room. He’s only ten minutes into watching A Walk to Remember—because he needs an excuse to cry that doesn’t involve Patrick—when someone buzzes his apartment. His take out has already arrived, so David’s half-convinced they’re calling the wrong apartment. 

“Yes?” he asks through the speaker.

“There’s a guest here for you, Mr. Rose,” he hears the concierge say.

“I’m not expecting anyone. Who is it?” God, has Sebastien come by for one last fuck? Is it too late for David to pretend not to be home?

“He says his name is Patrick Brewer. Do you want me to send him up?”

David freezes, his heart pounding in his chest. 

David’s hair is a mess. He’s wearing the sweats he only puts on when he feels bloated and a t-shirt he’d stolen from his first boyfriend in college. He looks like a disaster, and no part of him wants Patrick to see him like this. He could change, but part of him worries that Patrick will be gone by the time he gets back. 

“Mr. Rose?” the concierge asks again.

“Give me a minute,” he says. “I’ll come down. Tell him to meet me outside of the lobby.”

Maybe it’ll be easier to keep himself together if he knows his neighbours might be watching from their windows. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Patrick. He steps into his Uggs, purposefully ignores his reflection in the mirror by his entryway, and takes the elevator down. 

Patrick looks gorgeous. He’s not wearing anything special, but it’s been a week since David saw him, and he’d honestly thought he’d never see him again. He’s not wearing the ring anymore. It shouldn’t hurt so much to see his bare hand.

“David,” Patrick breathes. 

David had expected anger. He’d left Patrick to clean up the mess he’d created. He’d lost Patrick his job. There were a million reasons for Patrick to be angry. Or maybe even sadness—it seems like a very Patrick thing to do, coming to say goodbye even though he had every reason not to. 

David had never expected relief. Patrick’s face lights up when he sees David come through the door. David’s never had anyone else look at him like that. He doesn’t think he ever will again, and it feels like a knife in his chest. 

“I thought I was too late,” Patrick says. David’s standing on the steps, because he thinks if he gets any closer he might do something stupid like kiss him. “I looked at the gallery but everything was gone. This is the third time I’ve buzzed your apartment. You were never home.”

“If it was before two pm, I was probably asleep,” David admits. He’s let his sleep schedule completely degrade since coming back. 

“I thought about that,” Patrick says with a fond smile. “That’s why I came back at night.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” David asks. “You could’ve saved yourself the trip.”

“You didn’t answer my calls after you left. I was pretty sure if I called you wouldn’t answer, and this isn’t something I wanted to say over voicemail.”

“What do you—” David clears his throat, and it’s a little less wobbly when he starts again. “What do you have to say?”

“The good thing is,” Patrick says as if he hadn’t heard David ask, “that if you had answered the other times I came, I wouldn’t have been able to do it right. They only came in this morning.”

“What are you talking about, Patrick?” David snaps. “I need to get back upstairs. I have a flight in the morning.” His flight leaves at four, but Patrick doesn’t need to know that. 

“David, the last two years with you have been the only time in my life that I’ve ever felt like I had a purpose. My life before I met you was stale, monotonous. But every day with you was different. You have a vision and you create such beautiful things, and I felt so lucky to get to be a part of it.” Patrick looks so earnest, so sincere. David’s vision is already blurring with tears.

“What’s your point, Patrick?” he asks.

“I’d always known that I admired you,” Patrick continues. “I envied your tenacity, your drive. I knew the way my heart flipped whenever you really looked at me, but I convinced myself that it was only because you’re so beautiful. But that week together… David, everything changed in Schitt’s Creek. The more I got to know you, the more you opened yourself up to me, the more I wanted. And I realized that my feelings weren’t about the gallery or the work we do together. They’re about _you_ , David. It’s always been about you. The days we spent together in Schitt’s Creek were the best days of my life. I can’t let you go back to Canada. I know this is fast, and maybe it’s a little bit crazy, but—”

And then Patrick’s dropping onto one knee, and David can’t breathe. Patrick reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a long black box. “Will you marry me, David? Because I’d really like to date you.”

He opens the ring box, and there’s a line of four beautiful gold rings. David can’t stop the tears from falling. The moment stretches on, and David can see the nerves on Patrick’s face until he gasps out, “Are you sure?”

“Easiest decision of my life.”

David runs down the steps, and then they’re kissing. Patrick’s arms are steady against his back, keeping David safe and warm in his embrace. For the first time since he left Schitt’s Creek, David feels something like hope growing in his chest. There might actually be a way to keep this. To keep Patrick. He pulls away from the kiss, wiping the tears off of his face. 

“Patrick,” he says, and then he takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to marry you.”

He can see the emotions flickering over Patrick’s face, and he keeps talking before Patrick can pull away from him. “I sold the gallery. There’s nothing left for me here. And you—you’ve told me how much you hate it here. If we got married, you’d be stuck in New York.”

“I don’t care,” Patrick says. “I don’t care about where I live. I don’t care about what job I have. All I care about is that I’ll be with you.”

“That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” David says, blinking back his second round of tears. “But that wasn’t me saying I don’t want to be with you.”

“I don’t understand,” Patrick says. “Your visa’s up and you’ll be deported. There’s no other option.”

“Except there is another option,” David says. He tries his best, but he can’t hide the joy that’s radiating over his face. “How would you feel about moving back to Schitt’s Creek?”

Patrick’s face explodes into a smile, and they kiss and kiss and kiss, right there on the sidewalk until one of David’s neighbours yells at them for blocking the steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who read/commented/left kudos on this fic! seeing your reactions has been so much fun


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